A Family Apart
by Bratling
Summary: What if Ethan and Lillian had taken Brian and Colleen to San Francisco, tearing the family apart? Will they ever be reunited? Will Sully's and Michaela's relationship survive being separated from their kids?
1. Backlash

A Family Apart

by Bratling

Disclaimer: Not mine. I hugged them, squeezed them, called them George, and then gave them back like a good girl. Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman belongs to Beth Sullivan, CBS, and A&E.

Author's Note: This AU came about in a couple ways. 1) What if Lillian hadn't changed her mind and given the kids back and 2) Why wasn't Grandma Quinn notified? It's entirely possible that she could have known someone or done something to help! So this little story spins off the timeline at Cooper VS Quinn. Also, for the purposes of this story, Lillian's father isn't dead... yet. To be honest, it could be either way, because at times, they talk about him in present tense as if he's not dead. They know of the terms of the will, and Ethan figures that he'll kick the bucket at any time.

I'm a history nut. And I especially love fashion history. I have done and will continue to do research to try an assure historical accuracy, which was one of the things that they played fast and loose with on the series. My thanks to my beta readers, Jenni Debbage and Wendy Scott.

* * *

Chapter 1:

Backlash

* * *

"I am a great believer in found families and I'm not a great believer in blood. Although I love my family, even the ones I grew up with, to me I've always felt that the people who treated you with respect and included you in their lives were your family and the people who were related to you by blood might happen to be those people but that correlation was a lot less strong than society believes it is."

- Joss Whedon

* * *

Matthew watched as Ethan and Lillian drove away with his baby brother and sister. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right - Ethan had abandoned them twice, and even when he'd been around, he had not really been there. Sully had been more their father than Ethan ever had. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around his mother. She pulled away, into herself. "I need to go to the clinic," she said woodenly. "I have a lot of work to do." Without another word, she swiftly walked away.

Matthew turned to Sully. "What are we gonna do now?" he asked.

"Nothin'," Sully said bleakly. "Th' appeal was turned down."

Matthew stuffed his hands into his pockets. "But there's gotta be somethin'," he protested. "Colleen and Brian belong with us!"

Sully laid his hand on Matthew's shoulder. "I know," he said. "But there ain't." His hand dropped down to his side as if he couldn't support it anymore.

Slowly, the two men started down the street, Matthew kicking a rock that ended up there. "It ain't right," Matthew muttered. "He signed the adoption paperwork, and I was there when you and Dr. Mike filed it."

"I know," Sully was silent for a few minutes. "The paperwork's a mite different for you, 'cause you're of age, but he signed that, too, and can't change his mind... an' you need ta sign it, too. Ya also git to decide if ya wanna change your name."

Matthew took off his hat and wiped his face with a handkerchief, using the movement to disguise the fact that he had tears in his eyes. He'd been a Cooper his entire life; his middle and last names told the world who his father was. But at the same time... Ethan had never been the father any of them wanted or deserved. But ever since they'd moved to Colorado Springs in 1859 and Sully and Charlotte had become friends, Sully had been filling that role. It was Sully who'd taught him to be a man. Sully who took him hunting and fishing. Sully who'd given him advice about girls and taught him the right way to treat a woman. "If ya give me the paperwork, I'll sign it," he said finally, as he put his hat back on.

"It's at the clinic," Sully said. "we'll git it later an' send it in."

Matthew, who had already felt like crying, rubbed his hand across his eyes. "Colleen told me she screamed at Ethan that you're our Pa... an' it's true. Lillian can't never replace our mother... either one of 'em. Took me a long time to accept it, but Ma is Dr. Mike now. Lillian can try, but..."

"No, she can't replace her," Sully agreed. "Ethan made Michaela look like a bad mother as best as he could."

"Only sorta worked," he said gruffly. "Ma did more to take care of us in the last two years than Ethan did in the last seventeen," Matthew said bitterly. "She made sure we had what we needed even when it meant she did without. All those times she was workin' instead of bein' with us was so that she had the money to keep us; we all knew that... th' rest was tryin' ta make life better for us. And you've been a better Pa to us than he ever was; you're our father in every way that really counts."

"Ya gonna be okay?" Sully asked quietly.

"Guess so," Matthew looked at Sully and noticed, for the first time, the unshed tears in the older man's eyes. "You?"

Sully shrugged. "Your Ma and you kids are everything ta me," he admitted. "An' we're all hurtin' right now."

Matthew looked down again. "Does Grandma know?" he asked suddenly.

Sully shook his head. "Michaela didn't want to worry her," he paused. "I'd best go see to your Ma - she needs us right now."

Matthew scuffed the toe of his boot into the dirt. "I know," he said. "I'll be along - after I send a telegram to Grandma, 'cause she needs to know." He didn't say it, of course, but he knew his grandmother knew people; people with, for lack of a better word, pull. If anything could be done to bring his siblings home, Grandma would help.

"Reckon you're right," Sully said quietly. "Elizabeth will want ta know."

Matthew nodded and started towards the telegraph office, but changed his mind and headed towards the Mercantile instead. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sully start back towards the clinic. It didn't take long for Matthew to purchase a few sheets of paper, an envelope, and a pencil.

He didn't say much of anything to Loren, who seemed to want to treat him with a kind of rough sympathy. Quickly, he headed to the post office and with a nod to Horace, used the counter to write the letter. He finished it quickly, folded it, stuffed it in the envelope, and addressed it. "I need ta mail this, Horace," Matthew said. "An' I need ta send a telegram to Mrs. Elizabeth Quinn, number 10 Mount Vernon Street, Boston, Massachusetts.

* * *

Elizabeth Quinn sat down heavily on the settee as she read the telegram. It mentioned a letter to follow that would explain everything in detail. But with the speed - or lack of it - of the mail, there wasn't time to waste. This could not stand. Colleen and Brian were Michaela's children - her grandchildren. It hadn't mattered to her after that first meeting that they weren't blood related. Part of her felt that those three were the only grandchildren she would have from her youngest simply because Michaela had put off marrying for so long.

Elizabeth pursed her lips, got up and went upstairs to the study where her desk was. After a few minutes of rummaging inside it, she removed a stack of letters, which had been bound together with a silk ribbon left from Michaela's childhood. She tucked them under her arm, stood, and walked over to her husband's favorite chair. She'd always felt closer to Josef sitting there, and she felt she needed his strength now. Surprisingly, their separation had been good for her relationship with Michaela. Josef had claimed that they were too much alike, and Elizabeth acknowledged to herself that it was probably true. Both were strong, opinionated, independent-minded women. With a little sigh, she opened the first letter and scanned it. She didn't remember, exactly, when it had been written - sometime during the first year Michaela had lived in Colorado Springs was as close as she could get.

After what seemed like hours, but was in reality only about 45 minutes, she found the letter. It was as she remembered. Quickly, she stacked the letters again and tied them together - it was quite a bundle - Michaela had written her on average of once a week for the past two years. The stack of letters contained her daughter's struggle to become her grandchildren's mother. All of it was there - Brian's accident, Colleen's frostbite, and even Matthew's courting of Ingrid. All their struggles, joys, and heartaches were in those letters. And the one she'd been looking for - Ethan Cooper's second abandonment of his family.

As Elizabeth pulled some of her personal stationary towards her, picked up her pen, and dipped it into the inkwell, she hoped that their old friend would be able to do something for her. After all, Mr. Chase and her husband, Josef, had been friends. She wasn't sure, exactly, where and when Josef and Sal had managed to become friends, but their friendship had been a firmly established fact when she and Josef had married. So much so that he was Rebecca's and Maureen's godfather. And since Sal was now a Supreme Court Justice, if anyone could help her, he would be the one.

"Dear Sal," she wrote. "It has been quite some time since you and your lovely wife visited..."

* * *

Michaela hurried into the clinic, shutting the door behind her. She wanted to scream and throw things. She wanted... she wanted to cry. It shouldn't matter so much. She hadn't given birth to them. Hadn't known what to do with them or even particularly wanted them to start with, and they'd only been with her for two years. But she'd fallen in love. They'd become so much a part of her that sometimes she looked at them and saw them as babies - her babies. In fact, sometimes she was a little jealous that Charlotte had had them from the beginning and felt cheated that she'd missed a huge chunk of their lives. Damn them! How could Ethan and Lillian do this to her? To the children.

And now... now she finally understood the Cheyenne mourning custom of cutting oneself. Now, she felt such pain and sorrow that it was almost too great to be borne. Her children had practically been ripped from her arms, and knowing that they were still out there - somewhere - almost made it worse. Instinctively, she knew that physical pain would be easier to bear than the emotional anguish. Physical pain was something she could do something about. This - there was nothing she could do, nothing she could fix. Her legs started to shake, so Michaela steadied herself against the exam table.

The door to the Clinic opened, and then shut behind her. "Dr. Mike?" Grace's voice came from the direction of the door, but she didn't bother to look. "Michaela?"

"I lost them," Michaela's voice was barely audible. "Charlotte entrusted them to me... my babies. They're gone. He, they... took them from me!"

"I know," Grace's voice was quiet, and Michaela felt a hand stroking her hair. "I been where you are, Michaela," she said. "I had children that I loved and cared for taken from me and sold away. Didn't matter that they wassn't mine by blood - that I wassn't their mother - they was mine, an' I mourned 'em." Grace wrapped her arms around her, offering comfort.

Shakily, Michaela started to cry, and Grace's embrace tightened. "Let it out, honey," she murmured. "I been where you are. I know."

"I know they were Charlotte's first, but -"

The door opened and shut again and light-sounding footsteps crossed the wooden floor. Tears fell so fast and hard Michaela couldn't really see through them. She felt, rather than saw, someone settle on the cot next to her. Another arm wrapped around her shoulders and another hand stroked her hair. "The judge is a fool," Dorothy's voice said. "It ain't fair, an' it ain't right... but you don't have ta go through this alone. Grace an' me are here, an' Sully is comin' and we all love ya, Michaela."

Michaela didn't answer. She didn't know what to say. It didn't matter at the moment that she and Sully were to marry in a few months and then could start attempting to add to their family. Colleen and Brian wouldn't be there. She doubted Ethan and Lillian would allow it. "I want my children back," she whispered finally, tears running down her face. "I feel so helpless; I couldn't stop him. We never should've tried to adopt them... or we should have put those ads in the Boston Post and the Chicago Sun Times where there was no chance of his seeing them."

Neither Grace nor Dorothy said anything. Instead, they simply were there, lending support. The door opened again and this time, Michaela looked up with eyes that were still filled with tears to see Sully walking in. Wordlessly, he came over and opened his arms to her. She stood up and walked into them. He held her close, tucked her head under his chin and rocked her back and forth for a while. She knew he was crying, too, from the way he was breathing, and she could feel dampness of his tears in her hair. "I ain't gonna promise ya that everything's gonna be okay," he said hoarsely. "I ain't gonna say all th'things that people're gonna be sayin' ta us. But I love you. An' you, me, an' Matthew are still gonna be a family, an' we'll get through this." Grace and Dorothy must've felt as if they were intruding, because they left. The two of them lapsed into silence, holding each other and taking comfort from one another's presence.

Finally, after an indeterminate amount of time, they pulled slightly apart. Michaela pulled a handkerchief out of the pocket of her coat and used it to wipe away both of their tears. Sully drew her close again, and placed a loving kiss on her temple. "I promised Snowbird I'd go to the Reservation this afternoon to check on my patients there," Michaela said finally.

Sully nodded and released her. "I'll git Matthew and we'll hitch up th' wagon."

"Matthew will want to spend time with Ingrid," Michaela said.

"I know. But you an' me can go together, an' I'll tell Matthew he's welcome ta come along," Sully said.

Michaela reached for Sully's hand and threaded her fingers through his. Part of her was shocked by her own forwardness, but she didn't care - she needed the contact, the loving touches, just to remind herself she wasn't alone.

Sully must have sensed it - or perhaps it was because he knew her so well. He kissed her gently. "I ain't goin' nowhere, 'Chaela," he promised. "You git your bag, and we'll leave - together."

Michaela drew in a deep breath and nodded. It was a struggle, but with the ease of long practice, she brought her emotions under tight control, and then went to grab what she needed. While she was gathering, Sully left to go get the wagon. She wanted to start crying again, but she had years and years of training to fall back on - she'd been taught her entire life that one did not show emotion in public; it was improper and thus not done. Emotional displays had always been frowned upon and considered outside the range of proper behavior allowable in Boston society. She fell back on that now, just to function. Holding her bag tightly, she opened the door, hung the 'Closed' sign, locked up, and went to join Sully.

Somehow, they'd manage. Somehow, she would learn to live without Colleen and Brian. Somehow, she would stop missing them. Somehow, she would stop mourning them. Somehow, she would forget that for a far too short two years, she had been the mother to two wonderful, amazing, bright, intelligent children. Somehow...

* * *

Brian and Colleen stood on the back of the caboose, watching the tracks under the train. "Ethan don't care 'bout us," Colleen said softly. "Neither does Lillian; not really. Bet it's about money. Usually is with him."

Brian looked up at her. "I want Mama," he said. "I want Sully an' Matthew."

Colleen crouched down and hugged her little brother. "Me, too," she said. "Ethan an' Lillian aren't our parents and nothin' they can do will change my mind."

Brian swiped his arm across his face. "I wanted him ta come back," he whispered. "I prayed for it... I wish God had said no." His lower lip trembling, he looked at Colleen. "I think I'm mad at God," he said finally.

A sudden lurch threw Colleen against the railings, Hastily, she stood up. "Don't be mad at God, Brian," she said. "This ain't God's fault; it's Ethan's and Lillian's. If you wanna be mad at somebody, be mad at them!"

Brian looked down at his feet and scuffed the toe of his shoe into the metal grating. "I guess," he said. "What are we gonna do? Runnin' away didn't work so good."

"We didn't have any place to go." Colleen tucked her hands under her arms. "Ma and Pa said that them takin' us away wouldn't do any good," she said slowly, an idea still forming. "An' we didn't have a real good plan to run away before... What if you'n me get some sort of work until we can manage to buy tickets to Boston? I've been savin' up, anyway to help pay my way through college.. you know Ma's been givin' me money for helpin' in the clinic."

"I've got a little money; that mechanical bank Grandma gave me is almost full," Brian admitted, "an' th' one Miss Olive gave me _is_ full, but I bet it's nowhere near enough for train tickets. And they'd look for us at Grandma's!"

"So we don't go to Grandma's house... We go see Aunt Rebecca instead. Uncle Richard's a lawyer, ain't he?" She held tight to the railing.

"I think so. But we don't really know Aunt Rebecca," Brian protested.

"Remember, I was havin' tea at the same time as Ma and her sisters," Colleen reminded him. "Aunt Claudette, Aunt Marjorie, and Aunt Maureen were givin' Ma a hard time, but Aunt Rebecca wasn't. She might help."

Brian stared at the passing countryside. "I saw tears in Mama's eyes, Colleen," he said softly. "We made her cry."

Colleen shook her head. "No, they did," she said. "It's you'n me against them, Brian. We can't breathe a word of our plans to anybody, or they'll stop us."

A look of determination came over the little boy's face. "We can do this," he said. "Ma says that if you put your mind to something..."

"Anything is possible," Colleen finished. "Let's get inside 'fore we fall off the back of the train." Together, they walked inside, determined that somehow, they'd go home. Home to their real family.

* * *

Michaela and Snowbird walked through the village, stopping occasionally to talk to patients or check on someone's condition. "Something has happened, Michaela," Snowbird said softly. "I can tell by the way you both look."

Michaela swallowed, hard, closed her eyes, and wrapped her arms around herself. "The children's father showed up and took them away."

Snowbird looked a little confused. "He has divorced you, then?" she asked. "I thought you were to marry my husband's brother."

"I am." Michaela shook her head and a wry smile crossed her face. "I never told you how the children came into my care," she said. "Their father abandoned the family when Brian was a baby... and when their mother died two years ago, she gave them to me."

The confusion on Snowbird's face cleared. "So you have lost all three..."

"Matthew is of age," Michaela said softly. "Ethan couldn't make him leave."

"I, too, have lost children," Snowbird said quietly.

"I know," Michaela swallowed, hard, remembering Walks On Cloud's death. "I was there when One Eye murdered your son."

There was sorrow in Snowbird's eyes. "He is not the first child I have lost," she said. "But someday, I will see all of them again. Your children - they are still alive?"

"I hope so," Michaela said. "I won't know until I get a letter or telegram from them - if Ethan allows it. Sully and I were trying to adopt them, to make them ours legally," she said. "He agreed... and then changed his mind," she finished bitterly. "And now we've lost them - I've lost them." She stuffed her hands into her pockets. "I don't trust their father."

"There is still hope," Snowbird said. She stopped and gestured towards Sully and Cloud Dancing. "I have seen the same look on Cloud Dancing's face when we lost a child." She seemed to hesitate for a few minutes. "Because they are men, there are some things they do not understand - they are not women; they are not _mothers_."

Michaela's eyes strayed towards Sully. "I know he loves the children," her voice was soft, almost inaudible. "The adoption was his idea, and he's been a good father to them, but -"

Snowbird laid her hand on Michaela's shoulder. "It was you who made them clothing, took care of them when they were sick or hurt, taught them, cooked for them..."

"Sometimes with mixed results," Michaela admitted wryly.

"They love their children, but they are not mothers, " Snowbird said, "we are."

"Mothers without children," Michaela murmured.

"Our children are gone, but that does not change what and who we are," Snowbird said gently. She wrapped her arms around Michaela and hugged her. Michaela hugged her back. "We have known much loss, you and I, but we are still here."

"The government has done the both of us more harm than good," Michaela muttered. "I just wish that they could see that we have more in common than we have differences."

The two women stood in silence for a few minutes. "So how many horses did he offer your family for you?" Snowbird asked finally.

For a second, Michaela didn't know what her friend was talking about, but then she remembered the Cheyenne custom of giving horses to the family of the bride. It was, she supposed, a form of bride price. "He... didn't," she offered finally.

Snowbird frowned. "Cloud Dancing gave my father six horses for me. You... your family should receive at least seven, maybe eight!"

"I doubt my mother would understand... or know what to do with the horses," Michaela said. "And why should he offer more for me than Cloud Dancing did for you?" For the first time since the children had been taken, she felt like laughing, at least a little.

Snowbird didn't answer that one. Instead, she shook her head and smiled. "The horses should go to your father's people."

Michaela smiled, too. "Uncle Teddy wouldn't know what to do with them, either."

"Men!" Snowbird crossed her arms over her chest.

A thought crossed Michaela's mind. "I wanted to make Sully a gift for the wedding, but..."

"It is not the kind of sewing you have done before, is it?" Snowbird asked.

"No, it's not," Michaela admitted.

Snowbird smiled. "It is sometimes best to keep busy. Come, I will teach you," she said. "I will teach you what you need to know to make a wedding present for my brother-in-law... and perhaps more."

"Are you sure?" Michaela asked hesitantly.

"Cloud Dancing adopted Sully as his brother," Snowbird said quietly. "They could not be closer if they had been born to the same mother." She hesitated, and then continued. "You are my friend... a very good friend, and I see no reason why I should not do the same... sister."

"Thank you!" Michaela gave Snowbird a tentative hug. "I used to have only one sister that accepts me... now I have two."

Snowbird started towards her tipi. "First we need to ask my husband to catch a porcupine for us for quills..."

Michaela welcomed the distraction of planning. She had found a balm there, and while she was still devastated by the children's... abduction, she felt better able to cope.

* * *

"Haáahe," Sully reached out and clasped his brother's arm.

Haáahe," Cloud Dancing returned the gesture. "It did not go well," he stated..

Sully dropped to the ground. "No," he said. "They ain't dead, but it feels worse than losin' Hannah... Maybe 'cause I bin helpin' raise 'em... longer history with them than with my baby." He pulled one knee up and rested his arm on it. "We lost 'em, anyway, sure as if they were."

Cloud Dancing dropped down to sit beside him, and the two men sat in silence. They didn't need words - the presence of their brother was enough. They sat together for some time until Sully broke the silence. "Michaela's with Snowbird. Figured she could use another woman ta talk to."

"It will work out, my brother," Cloud Dancing said quietly.

"Spirits tell ya that?" Sully asked, looking off into the distance.

"No," Cloud Dancing's answer was soft. "I have not asked. But I have faith. You and Michaela are their family."

"I know." Sully picked up a stick and started to break it into small pieces. "I'm tired of my family being taken from me."

"We are still your family, little brother," Cloud Dancing said gently. "And you will marry Michaela." He clasped Sully's shoulder and Sully clasped his in return.

"Yes." Sully fell silent, his hand dropping from his brother's shoulder. The two men sat quietly, listening to the world around them, saying nothing. The silence spoke for them, providing much needed salve for their aching hearts.

* * *

_**TBC...**_


	2. Consequences

**Chapter 2:**

**Consequences**

* * *

"The beggarly question of parentage - what is it, after all? What does it matter, when you come to think of it, whether a child is yours by blood or not? All the little ones of our time are collectively the children of us adults of the time, and entitled to our general care. That excessive regard of parents for their own children, and their dislike of other people's is, like class-feeling, patriotism, save-your-own-soul-ism, and other virtues, a mean exclusiveness at bottom."

-Thomas Hardy, _Jude the Obscure_

* * *

Matthew sat next to Ingrid, her hand in his, near the tent in the immigrant camp where her family still lived. He didn't know what to say. And it seemed that she didn't, either. Gently, she released his hand, and guided him downward so that his head rested in her lap. With a soft touch, she stroked his hair away from his face. He closed his eyes at the soothing, repetitive motion. Part of him wasn't sure why he'd sought Ingrid. Dr. Mike had been right that he wanted to see her, but he was torn. He wanted to be with Ingrid, but he wanted to stay close to his mother, too.

"I am so sorry, Matthew," Ingrid said softly. "I cannot imagine how it would be for someone to take my sisters away."

A large lump rose in Matthew's throat and tears pricked his eyes. "I failed," he muttered. "It's my job to protect our family an' keep us together, an' I couldn't do it."

"It is not your fault," Ingrid protested. "You have nothing good to say about your father, but will he not take care of them?"

"Don't know," Matthew muttered. "Left takin' care of us to Ma. Weren't hardly never around, and when he was, he jus' lied ta us all th' time."

"It will be all right, Matthew," Ingrid said comfortingly.

"No, it won't," tears began to run down Matthew's face. He turned over, buried his face in her stomach, wrapped his arms around her waist and began to sob. "It'll never be all right again."

* * *

Elizabeth called a family meeting. It had been a few weeks, and she had yet to hear from Michaela, though she'd received a letter from Matthew detailing the situation. Though letters, she'd arranged for Salmon Chase and his wife to come for a visit, and she had partially explained the situation. While he'd promised to look into it, she wasn't sure if anything could be done. Sal and his wife wouldn't be there for another week, but the rest of the family needed to know. It couldn't hurt to have Richard on board; he was a lawyer, after all.

The rest of her family was starting to arrive, but Elizabeth couldn't settle. She paced back and forth in the sitting room restlessly. Once everyone had arrived, the children were sent out back to play, and everyone else was settled with a cup of tea at their elbows. "We have a problem," Elizabeth glanced around the room, giving each one of her daughters and their husbands a long look. Quickly and succinctly, she told them about Michaela losing the children, and how the appeal had been turned down.

"Good riddance," Marjorie sneered. "They're so... rough hewn."

"Marjorie!" Rebecca said. "They're good, sweet children - especially young Brian."

Marjorie just looked cross.

"I can't imagine what she must be going through," Claudette said slowly. "I don't approve of some of her choices, Mother, but she loves Matthew, Colleen, and Brian as if they were hers by blood."

"But they're not," Maureen said self righteously. "She should have just sent them to an orphanage in the first place - that would have fulfilled her promise."

"Have you ever been to an orphanage, Maureen?" Richard asked mildly. "I've accompanied Rebecca to one to assist with her charity work, and I would go to any lengths to prevent our children from ending up in one."

Maureen didn't answer.

Marjorie scowled. "Is she still planning on marrying that, that... savage?"

"Jealous, Marjorie?" Claudette asked with a smirk.

Marjorie glared at her sister. "He's entirely unsuitable," she said stiffly. "If David hadn't died -"

"He didn't," Rebecca said. All eyes snapped to her. "Michaela wrote me - he faked his death and reappeared a few months ago. It was right after she accepted Sully's proposal."

Murmurs filled the room until Marjorie's derisive laughter interrupted them. "Saint Michaela," she sneered. "Engaged to two men at once! Not so saintly now, is she, Mother? What a scarlet woman!" She turned towards her mother, an ugly look on her face. "Is she really working as a doctor, or has she sought... other employment? After all, we _all_ know about the kind of women who move out west!"

Gasps were heard at the accusation. Rebecca stood and stormed towards her sister, anger on her face. She slapped Marjorie, hard, across the face. "Marjorie! Never, ever say things like that about anyone, let alone your own sister! I can't believe you would do that!"

Elizabeth glared at her second-to-youngest child. "Marjorie Juliette Quinn!" her voice was stern, reprimanding. "That wasn't your sister's fault - she received an official telegram from the war department informing her of David's death!"

Marjorie covered her red cheek with her hand, and glared at everyone.

"If it's anyone's fault, it's David's," Rebecca said. "If Richard had done something like that, I would have never spoken to him again."

"It's been seven years," Richard said. "If he'd just been considered missing, it's been long enough for him to legally be declared dead."

"At least he comes from a respectable family with standing," Maureen said snidely. "Mr. Sully is a penniless nobody!"

"David would never have offered to adopt the children," Claudette said quietly.

James, Claudette's husband, reached out and took her hand. "David has always been self-centered, even as a child," he said. "He probably expected to find her alone and miserable and only acted because she and Mr. Sully were obviously together."

Edward, Maureen's husband, gave him a startled look. "You know him that well?"

"The Lewises are my parents' neighbors," James said dryly.

"We're getting away from the problem," Richard said. "Mother Elizabeth, I'll see if there's anything I can do - if Michaela had contacted me, I would have dropped everything to represent herself and Sully."

"It's already been through the district court and the appeal denied," Claudette pointed out.

Rebecca's brow creased. "Ethan Cooper abandoned them," she said slowly, "does anyone know if the children's natural mother divorced him?"

"Michaela never mentioned it," Elizabeth said, "but she only knew Charlotte for a short time; she might not have known."

"I'll look into it," Richard promised. "If the divorce went the way it should have, Ethan Cooper shouldn't have any rights over the children anymore. At any rate, we can appeal again based upon insufficient counsel if nothing else," he said grimly. "If all else fails, we can always take it to the Supreme Court."

"Mother, have you talked to Uncle Sal?" Rebecca asked. "He is Chief Justice, after all."

"He and his wife will be here next week," Elizabeth said. "He hasn't promised anything, but he hasn't been apprised of the facts yet, either."

"If anyone can help Michaela, Uncle Sal can," Rebecca murmured.

Richard shot her a playful glare, as if to ask, 'what about me?'

She must have caught it, because she gave him a sweet smile. "I remember you saying that you can appeal more than once, Richard," she said. "But if we exhaust the appeal process, Uncle Sal may be our best hope."

The family lapsed into silence, and Elizabeth hoped that Marjorie and Maureen would come around long enough to at least support their baby sister in trying to bring the children home. After all, they were a family - even thousands of miles apart.

* * *

The house was huge. And, if she would admit it to herself, just as beautiful if not more so as her grandmother's home in Boston. But Colleen wasn't in the mood to admit anything. She wanted her mother. She wanted to go home. She didn't go to school - instead, they'd hired a governess to teach herself and Brian. She wanted to go to school again instead of sit in a room with Brian at the top of the house. She wanted her friends. She wanted to work in the clinic after school. She missed Sully - her real father. She missed being able to go places and do things without a chaperone. She didn't trust Ethan, Lillian, or the man that they wanted her to call, "Grandfather."

Colleen stared out the window. They'd put her and Brian as close to the garret as possible, and it was beginning to feel like a prison. Sure, they'd been given books and other amusements, but there were wrought iron bars on the windows. She'd overheard Ethan tell Lillian's father that since they'd tried to run away once, it was the best solution. To make matters worse, there were no chances to earn extra money, as they were never alone. It wasn't like she could work for her mother in the clinic or sell butter and eggs to the general store anymore, either. On the trip to San Francisco, she'd managed to get a look at ticket prices, and at $70 per second class ticket to Boston, the chances of being able to just take the train there were almost nothing.

Lillian's maid had taken almost all their clothes, too. It was like they were trying to wipe away their existence in Colorado Springs. She'd caught the woman going through their things - it was just luck that she and Brian had already hidden the family portrait that Mr. Watkins had taken.

Brian stormed in the room. "I hate this," he said. He threw himself on the bed.

"I hate it, too," Colleen said, tears in her eyes. She sat down on the bed, wincing as the stays in the fancy corset they insisted she wear stabbed her. They called it "figure training" and had made remarks about how it had been put off for far too long and how she was lucky that she had a decent figure to start with so they wouldn't have to remove any ribs. The only time she was allowed to take it off was to bathe; they even insisted she sleep in it, and it was tightened every week. She'd already had a couple of everyday ones before to provide... support, but those hadn't squeezed and stabbed her the way the new ones did. "I hate embroidery and needlepoint lessons. I hate these clothes - I want the dresses Ma and me made back. I hate not having friends. I hate not being home!"

Brian crawled over and gave her a hug and she wrapped her arms around him in return. "We're all we've got, Colleen," he said. His lower lip trembled. "They took away the toys Sully made me. They took away my clothes an' made me wear this." He gestured towards the navy blue serge* sailor suit they'd dressed him in, complete with knickerbocker pants and a wide-brimmed hat. On his feet were matching long stockings and a pair of matching, shiny, navy blue ankle-strap shoes. "I look like a sissy!"

"Did you manage to save any of your old clothes?" Colleen asked.

"Yeah," Brian made a disgusted face. "Convinced 'em that I needed somethin' ta get dirty in - but all they'd let me keep are the fancy ones for Sunday."

"I was barely in time to stop them from taking the mirror and brush Grandma gave me," Colleen said softly. "They did take the comb Sully carved me, and most of my clothes - even the Boston and Washington fancy ones."

"We shocked 'em, though," Brian said. "They didn't expect us to know fancy manners an' dancin'."

"I don't think they realize where Mama's from," Colleen said quietly. "Ethan don't know she comes from Society. Don't think he knows the Quinns are rich, either."

"I dunno," Brian said doubtfully. "I mean, he was tryin' ta sweet-talk her when he came to see us last year."

Colleen snorted. "Doctors make good money - or at least male doctors do. Probably thought he could get money from her that way."

"I guess," Brian snuggled into her side, and she winced as the stays stabbed her again. "Is it really all about money with him, Colleen? 'Cause if it is, I don't think I want him for my Pa no more."

Colleen sighed, hugged him harder and rested her cheek on the top of his head. "Usually," she said with a grimace. "I want our parents back," she murmured. "I want our lives back." They sat together quietly, drawing comfort from each other's presence - the only familiar thing in what had become an alien world. What their mother had said was true - all they had was each other.

Before anything else could be said, the governess, Ms. Winter, entered, took one look at them and started to scream. Apparently, she had a carrying kind of voice, because it soon brought other people running. Lillian was the first in the door. Miss Winter was sputtering, and it took a few minutes for her to calm down enough to speak. "It's inappropriate, Mrs. Cooper!" she declared. "I found them in bed together! This can't be allowed!"

Lillian sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Have they moved since you found them?" she asked.

"Well, no," Ms. Winter admitted grudgingly.

"So you came up to Colleen's room and found her comforting her brother..."

Ms. Winter nodded. In the meantime, both Lillian's father, Mr. Bradley, and Ethan had arrived. "Enough," Ethan said. "These two were doing nothing wrong - they've shared a room for most of their lives."

"It's the appearance that concerns me," Ms. Winter said with a sniff. "They cannot go on as they have been."

Mr. Bradley inclined his head. "No more meeting in bedrooms," he said. "In fact, it would be better if they only saw each other at mealtimes and in the school room."

"But Father," Lillian protested.

"Enough," he ordered quietly. Colleen already knew that it would be the end of it; Mr. Bradley' word was law in that house.

"I _hate_ you," she said, holding Brian protectively. "You stole us from _our parents_ and now you want to take _my brother_ from me?"

"Now, Colleen, you children rightfully belong to me - I'm your father, and Lillian is you new mother -" Ethan tried to placate her.

"No, you're not," Brian said with a glare. "Our parents love us; you stole us from 'em an' tried to make Ma look bad in front of the judge. Our parents are _Dr. Michaela Anne Quinn_ and _Byron Sully_, not _you_. The only grandparent we have left is in _Boston_!"

Colleen glared at them, too. "_Elizabeth Weston Quinn_ is our grandmother. Our grandfather, _Dr. Josef Quinn_, passed away in 1866. Our Pa's Ma passed when he was about Brian's age and his Pa when he was a little boy. We've also got four aunts and three uncles and lots of cousins all in Boston, an' _Matthew_ is the only other family we got. You're not in it!"

"I hate you, too!" Brian said. "You've taken everything that matters except Colleen, and now you want to take _her_, too!"

"Such impudence!" Ms. Winter murmured.

"That's enough out of the two of you!" Ethan said. "Brian, you're coming with me, and Colleen, I 'll deal with you later!" He grabbed Brian's upper arm and hauled him out of the room. The others followed, leaving Colleen alone. Slowly, tears began to run down her face. More than anything, she wanted her mother. Slowly, she got up and walked out of the room and downstairs to the library. Luckily, she hadn't been forbidden to write and they allowed her to mail letters. She walked inside the library and across the room. She sat down at a writing desk and pulled paper and ink towards herself. Slowly, she started to write, and then sped up, faster and faster, pouring out her fear and grief and pain to an Aunt she barely knew. When she finished, she stuffed it in an envelope and addressed it care of her grandmother. She wanted her mother. She wanted to go home. And deep down, she knew that if the adults couldn't or wouldn't help, it was up to herself and Brian to find a way home.

* * *

Michaela threw herself into work, barely taking time to fix meals for Matthew and Sully. Valentine's Day had passed, and she was grateful that the play was over with because it had taken time that she didn't want to give up. She had more time without Colleen and Brian, and that spare time was spent mostly at the Reservation with Snowbird. Her friend had been teaching her all manner of things, from how to prepare traditional foods to how to tan hides to make leather. It helped to keep busy, and she'd made great progress on Sully's wedding present. Together, they had cut and sewn it, then beaded and bedecked it with dyed porcupine quills. The plan to just make a shirt had changed into an entire traditional Cheyenne ceremonial outfit. The whole thing was beautifully decorated to the extent that the two women's taste would allow.

Michaela was heading towards the Reservation again, the last part of Sully's present in her saddlebags - a new pair of moccasins to match the rest of Sully's new outfit. One was finished completely, while its mate still needed some work. They were to start making a new outfit for Cloud Dancing as well. It was funny, she thought as she rode Flash closer and closer to the Reservation, but she'd almost learned more from her new "sister" than she'd learned from her mother. At least when it came to more domestic arts. Her cooking and sewing had both improved immensely; the cooking skills she'd learned for preparing traditional Cheyenne foods were carrying over into making other things.

It wasn't long before the Reservation came into sight. She slid off Flash and tethered the horses' reins to a tree. She unfastened the saddle bags and tossed them over one shoulder, then made her way to Snowbird's lodge. Snowbird was sitting outside the tipi, sewing busily. "Anyone need a doctor today?" Michaela asked with a smile in what had become her customary greeting.

Snowbird looked up. "No, but I have need of my sister," she said with an answering smile. "What is that?" she asked, gesturing to the new ring on Michaela's finger.

Michaela dropped to her knees, and then unslung the saddle bags from her shoulder. She opened them and pulled out the moccasins. "That's good, because I want to spend time with my sister, too," she said. "An engagement ring," she said. "To show the people in town that I'm spoken for."

Snowbird reached for the moccasins and examined the decoration on them. "You're getting better," she observed. "And the ring is the wrong tradition for here."

"I hope I am, and I know it is... but I have to work in town, too," Michaela smiled and changed the subject back to the moccasins. "Stitching flesh is different from fabric and leather."

"Not that different," Snowbird said. She smiled. "The fabric and leather don't move when you put a needle through them!"

Michaela laughed. "I also don't have to tie off every stitch," she said. She pulled some food out of the other saddlebag and laid it out. "Brought some lunch," she said.

Snowbird accepted it with a nod of thanks. "Cloud Dancing brought me some stones and hawk's claws," she said. "I thought we could use them on a new shirt for him."

"I'll take it home to work on it," Michaela offered. "Unless there's an emergency..." she trailed off.

"Medicine Woman..." Snowbird reached out and took Michaela's hand.

"I never noticed how quiet it is without the children," Michaela admitted softly. "Matthew moved inside for now, but he will marry soon..."

Snowbird squeezed her hand. "We will have to make a dress for you, next," she said, changing the subject. "If we do not, Sully will be prettier than you, and we cannot have that, now can we?"

The two women shared a soft laugh. "I need to send Sully out on a hunting trip, then," Michaela said with a wide smile. "I'm almost out of hide."

"We can always use the meat," Snowbird said, "but I have something..." She got up and went into the tipi, and returned a few minutes later carrying a large, heavy-looking bundle of white leather. "I have been saving this," she said. She started to unfold it, and Michaela stood up to help her. The bundle consisted of two buffalo hides that had been expertly tanned in a shade of pristine white. "The spirits do not speak to me the way they do my husband," she said. "But I knew I would need these someday." She sat down and picked up the shirt she was making for Cloud Dancing.

"Are you sure?" Michaela asked softly as she sat down next to her sister. She knew the value of buffalo hides in trade, and those were only the ones that weren't fully tanned. And now, well, with the railroad having killed the buffalo by the thousands, there weren't many left.

Snowbird nodded and bent over her work. "Some of the other women want to help," she said switching to Cheyenne.

Michaela nodded. "I'll bring food to share tomorrow," she said in slow, but clear Cheyenne. Both Snowbird's English and Michaela's Cheyenne had improved in the past few weeks because of practice. She wasn't fluent yet, but she could at least mostly understand what was being said around her. She smiled. "Am I to have a wedding here, then?" she asked, with laughter in her eyes.

Snowbird just smiled serenely. "Sully was adopted many winters ago," she pointed out. "And I have adopted you. Both you and he are part of us now..."

Michaela gave her a slow nod, and then switched to English. "My mother would not understand," she said softly. "We shall have to marry in town, as well."

Snowbird reached out and hugged her. "I know," she said. "But you have ten days after the ceremony before you have to -"

Michaela caught the connotation immediately and blushed. She chose to ignore it, however, and picked up the second, unfinished moccasin and started on the quilling and beading of it. The two women worked in companionable silence for a while. That is, until Michaela became aware of the position of the sun in the sky. "I'm afraid I have to go," she said as she put her work back into the saddlebag.

"Come back in the morning," Snowbird requested. "We are going gathering, and you may make more friends than just me." She folded Cloud Dancing's new shirt and handed it to Michaela, who stashed it in the other saddle bag.

"I will," she said. "Tomorrow's Saturday, so the clinic won't be open until afternoon, and I don't have any patients that need me urgently." With a final hug, Michaela walked back to Flash and fastened the saddlebags back on, then mounted and headed for home. She couldn't deny that spending time with Snowbird helped immensely. Just to be in the presence of someone who understood her sorrow and didn't judge her for it was a balm. Not only that, it didn't require words. She had been finding the work they did together soothing. There was something about creating something with her own two hands that allowed her to temporarily forget the hurts in her heart.

* * *

It was still a little cold to be eating outside, but it was unseasonably warm for late February. The snow had already melted from the ground, and there was no sign of more coming. Flowers were beginning to bloom, and while the weather was beginning to turn, the last gasp of winter weather had yet to leave Colorado Springs. Awnings had been erected over the tables to stave off any spring rain. It was lunchtime, and the regulars were sitting together at a couple of tables at Grace's Cafe.

"There she goes again," Hank observed, watching as Michaela rode out of town. He cut into his meatloaf and took a bite. "Gotta wonder what she's gettin' with those Injuns that she ain't gettin' here... Maybe she's got an itch only them braves can scratch."

"It ain't like that," Jake asserted. "Ya know I don't have nuthin' ta do with Injuns, but Dr. Mike wouldn't..." He took a long swallow of his ice tea. "She ain't always completely proper - if she were, we wouldn't'a had a doctor - but I've been watchin' her and Sully court, and she ain't all that comfortable with..."

"We know," Loren watched her ride away. "She's goin' to the Reservation ta spend time with Cloud Dancin's wife," he said. "She's been teachin' her to make things an' cook better."

"It's just..." Hank frowned, "After that trial -"

Robert E joined them and smiled as Grace brought him some lunch. "Ethan was tryin' to make her look bad," he observed.

"You're right," Jake said. "We all know that she ain't done nothin'..."

Loren sighed. "Maude useta say there are some things only other women c'n understand," he said. "Maybe losin' a child like that is one of 'em - and it ain't been so long that Dr. Mike lost two of hers."

"I've offered ta listen," Grace said. "I been where she is. I think it's because she doesn't have to be a tough lady so much there."

Hank put down his fork. "Maybe she'll go live with the Injuns, an' Sully'll have a buckskin wearin' wife," he sniggered.

Grace glared at him. "Oh, hush, you..." She turned and left.

"I doubt it," Loren said quietly. "We all know she's got a soft spot for the Cheyenne, an' she made friends with Cloud Dancin' right away, but she's got a duty to this town, and she knows it."

"Can you imagine what kind of trouble that would cause?" Robert E asked. "Th' army looks t'other way with her visitin' an' treatin' th' Indians, but livin' there? Not ta mention that it'd destroy her reputation here in town."

"Seems like Ethan did a good job of that," Hank said.

"Most folks don't believe it," Loren said. "Especially after the editorial that Dorothy published - those that can't read had it read to 'em by folks that can."

"I spent the night at her place in the beginning," Robert E reminded them. "More'n one night, and nobody said nothin' then."

"But you were burned bad," Jake protested. "And she didn't have the clinic then."

"An' Sully was paralyzed," Robert E said. "He done got beat so bad that they couldn't move him no further. Are ya sayin' that somethin' happened while he was half-dead with the children in th' same room?"

"He has a shelter nearby on the property," Loren said. "Tole me he was building one so he could be close by in case she needed him. Hafta say I agree with him - a woman alone with three kids..."

Hank snorted. "If I'd'a known that was the way..."

Jake smacked him upside the head. "Don't let Sully hear you talk about her like that," he warned. "He's gotten even more protective of her since Ethan took the kids. Matthew, too." The men lapsed into silence and concentrated on eating Grace's excellent cooking.

* * *

Richard was gleeful. He'd found it! He'd found the evidence that, to his mind, would reopen Michaela's case. It had taken a lot of telegrams, and sending an associate out to do some digging, but it turned out that Charlotte had filed for divorce. In the judgment against Ethan, full custody had been awarded to her. Not only that, but she had made sure the language gave her rights over who got the children in case of her untimely demise. A little more digging had yielded a will filed a week or two before her death, naming Dr. Michaela Anne Quinn as the children's legal guardian with full rights of adoption granted. He'd just received copies of both documents in the mail, so he stashed them in his briefcase, then grabbed his hat and gloves. It was almost March, so the children had been gone from her care for about a month now, but if he had it his way, they'd be home by summer.

He tugged the gloves on, put on his hat, and picked up the briefcase. Quickly, he left his office, locking the door behind himself. Mr. Chase, or Uncle Sal, as his wife called him, was to be at Elizabeth's that night, and he had to show the man the paperwork. He hoped that with the new evidence, they'd not only be able to reopen the case, but Michaela would win. He hired a carriage and went home as quickly as he could so he could change for supper. He bounded up the stairs of his townhouse, and burst through the door. "Rebecca!" he called.

Rebecca walked out of the sitting room. "Richard?" she said, puzzled.

He dropped his briefcase and shut the front door behind him with his foot. "I found it!" he said gleefully. Richard crossed the room with a few long strides, picked up Rebecca and twirled her around.

Rebecca's hands clutched reflexively at him. "What? Richard! This isn't like you!"

No, no it wasn't like him. He usually was completely controlled by propriety. But at the moment, he didn't care at all about what was proper and what wasn't. The exhilaration of being able to help someone was too great - especially when it was members of his own family. "We'll probably need your uncle's influence to reopen Michaela's case, but I think it can be done!" he said happily.

Without another word, Rebecca kissed him. He kissed her back, tangling his tongue with hers. She wrapped her arms around him and heat rose between them. When the kiss broke, it left both of them gasping for breath. "If we didn't have to go to Mother's..." Rebecca murmured.

He rested his forehead against hers. "But we need to see your Uncle Sal for this to work," he said softly.

Rebecca kissed him sweetly. "How long will it take for the children to go home to Michaela and Sully?" she asked.

With that question, his shoulders slumped. "I don't know," he admitted. "Months, probably. Mr. Cooper will fight it, but with what I found, the law isn't on his side this time."

Rebecca moved slightly away and took his hand in hers. "I received a letter from Colleen today," she said, changing the subject. "I wrote back immediately, but I have her address now."

Richard squeezed her hand. "We'd better wash and change now if we're to arrive at your mother's house in time for dinner," he said, then turned and, tugging gently on her hand, started up the stairs. "Is there anything we can use in the letter?"

"I don't think so," Rebecca's expression was troubled. "But they seem intent on taking away everything from the children's past; they're systematically eliminating all traces of Michaela and Sully from their lives."

Richard stopped at the landing and embraced Rebecca. "We'll figure something out," he said. "If your father's lawyer had done his job better, the children never would have left Colorado Springs." As he walked towards the master bedroom, hand-in-hand with his wife, he marveled how their relationship had changed over the years. It had started as a 'good match' - a marriage of convenience - but somewhere in the years they'd spent together, they'd fallen in love with one another. He was lucky, and he knew it. So were Sully and Michaela... and he would do what was needed to ensure that they got their children back.

* * *

* Serge is a heavy twill-weave mix of either wool and silk or wool and linen, which was used for winter-weight children's sailor suits and dresses of the period, as well as the actual military uniforms.

* * *

_**TBC...**_


	3. Making Plans

**Chapter 3:**

**Making Plans**

* * *

_"Patience, n. A minor form of despair, disguised as a virtue." _

_-Ambrose Pierce _

* * *

Sully sat on the front porch, waiting for Michaela. He hadn't seen much of her since Ethan and Lillian had left with the children. Oh, he saw her at dinner, and she was perfectly willing to prepare meals for him and Matthew, but as she'd thrown herself into work and going to the Reservation, he had gotten less and less time with her since he'd given her the ring. He stood and looked down the road as he heard hoof beats approaching.

Michaela rode up and dismounted, then led Flash into the barn. Sully followed her and without a word, took the saddle and saddle blanket out of her hands and hung them over the side of the stall. He took Flash's bridle and led her out of the stall, took one of the currycombs, and started to groom the horse. Michaela worked on the other side silently, simply accepting his presence. She'd been quieter a lot more recently and he desperately wanted the old Michaela back. "I've missed you," he said quietly.

"I've been here," she said neutrally.

Sully finished grooming his half of Flash quickly and efficiently, then grabbed the hoof pick and checked her hooves for stones. "Not really," he said. "You've been runnin', same as I did after Hanna an' Abigail died. Only you ain't been runnin' far."

"I've been busy," she said. "Snowbird has been helping me with a present."

"Snowbird's been helping ya," he said gently, "but not jus' with a present. Cloud Dancin' told me she's decided you're her sister."

Michaela stopped brushing Flash's coat. "We understand each other," she said softly, then resumed her motions with the currycomb. "I'm meeting her in the morning to go gathering..."

Sully completed his task and put the tools away. He moved around Flash, put the horse into the stall, and took the currycomb out of Michaela's hand. Quickly, he finished grooming the horse, and then left the stall and took Michaela's hands. "I know you're hurtin', Michaela," he said quietly. "But so're Matthew an' me...and you're shuttin' us out. Matthew still needs ya, Michaela... and so do I."

Michaela didn't answer. Instead, she kissed him. She dropped his hands and brought hers up to tangle in his hair, holding him close to her. The kiss was desperate, needy, as if she had to kiss him or he'd disappear. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back - though part of him was puzzled by this unexpected behavior. This was not the proper Bostonian lady he was used to dealing with. It was rare that she kissed him because she was still a little uncomfortable with the physical aspect of their relationship. One kiss turned to two, then to three, and then to four. It was only when her small hands released his hair and started fumbling with the buttons on his shirt that he pulled back.

He wanted her. More than anything. He'd imagined her in his bed so many times over the last few years... He'd dreamed of what it would be like when they finally... Just... not like this. There was a deep, aching need inside him he knew instinctively only she could fill, but it had to be right. He would not shame her like this. He refused to do anything that could lead to her disgrace. "No, Michaela," he said. "You ain't gonna lose me, I promise. I'm here. I ain't leavin'. We're gettin' married in a few months - plenty of time for this then."

Tears started to run down Michaela's face. "It's just -"

Keeping one arm wrapped around her, Sully went over to the nearest pile of hay and sat down, bringing her with him. He hugged her tightly, and she rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder. Part of him absently noted how well she fit there, as if she were made just for him. She curled up next to him and laced her fingers through his. "I know," he said soothingly. "But we ain't gonna do nothin' that'd shame ya and prove your mother right 'bout me."

"She knew I was coming back to Colorado Springs for you," Michaela said quietly, using her free hand to scrub the tears from her face.

"But she don't approve of me," he said. "She thinks you can do better'n me."

Michaela tilted her head up and captured his lips in a soft, sweet kiss. "There's nobody better for me than you," she said.

"That's good," Sully took her free hand and laid it over his heart. "Because you have my heart."

Michaela turned her hand over, and took his, then laid it over her heart. "And you have mine."

"I know the letters ain't enough, Michaela," he said softly. "I miss Colleen an' Brian, too."

"Do you think... if we sent an invitation now, they'd be able to come for the wedding?" she asked.

"We can try. I don't know if Ethan will let 'em, but there's no harm in askin'." Sully ran his hand up and down her back.

"I need to go start supper," she said, but she made no move to get up.

"How's your Cheyenne?" Sully asked.

"I'm not fluent, but I can understand what people say now," she said.

Sully smiled. "If Snowbird's invited ya along tomorrow, she may be thinkin' of gettin' her adoption of you recognized."

"That'd explain why she's mad at you," Michaela poked him in the chest.

Sully looked perplexed. "Why?"

"She says you haven't offered my uncle enough horses for me." Michaela looked up at him and smiled crookedly.

"But I haven't offered him any," Sully protested.

"Precisely," she poked him in the arm. "Uncle Teddy is the only male relative I have left."

Sully groaned. Looked like if he wanted to keep his Cheyenne family happy, he'd be tracking down Michaela's uncle. "Uncle Teddy?"

"Theodore Quinn - he's a world-famous concert pianist. He's my godfather, too." She wiggled out of his embrace, and stood, brushing the hay from her skirt. "I should go start supper. Bring in my saddle bags for me, please?"

Sully stood up, took her hand, and kissed it. "Sure," he said. "Can I do anything else ta help?"

"Find Matthew?" she requested. "He still needs to sign the adoption papers, and I think we all need to spend some time together."

Sully leaned in and kissed her again, and then picked up the saddlebags and followed her into the old homestead. Together, they'd make it through. And it looked like he needed to talk to Cloud Dancing about catching some wild horses and find Michaela's uncle... though if the adoption was recognized, he had to find out who _Snowbird's_ closest male relative was!

* * *

Matthew climbed the steps that led into the old homestead. The new one was almost completed, though due to the fact that Brian and Colleen were no longer living with them, they didn't need the space anymore. Sully had found him out at Miss Olive's old ranch; he'd been renting the pastures from Loren ever since Miss Olive had died. Part of him wished he had the money to buy the property outright, but he didn't. It would make things easier with Ingrid if he did because there was enough room for all her sisters in the ranch house.

It had been almost a month since his natural father had taken Brian and Colleen. As time went on, it had gotten easier and he didn't blame himself anymore... much. What had been hard was watching Dr. Mike withdraw into herself, shutting him and Sully out. He understood it was her way of grieving, but it didn't make it any easier; he was used to her spending time with him, and she didn't anymore. It was true there'd been times she'd simply been too busy - epidemics and the like - but recently, she'd just been... unavailable.

Quietly, he opened the door and went inside. "Dr. Mike?" he called.

She startled a little. She'd been standing next to the stove, obviously cooking supper. "Hi, Matthew," she said softly. "Supper will be ready in a few minutes."

Matthew sat down at the table for a few minutes and watched her move around the kitchen area. "Is Sully comin'?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "He stopped by the Clinic to pick up something for me."

Matthew got up and started setting the table. "Ma?"

"What is it, Matthew?" Michaela sounded weary.

"Are you all right?" he asked. "It's just, well, I don't really see you anymore..."

"I'm just tired, sweetheart," she said. "I've been a bit preoccupied with making a wedding present for Sully," Michaela admitted. "After he leaves, I'll show it to you, if you like."

Matthew smiled. He'd missed even the small moments in their busy lives that he'd gotten to share with her. It had taken him a long time to accept it, and at times he'd even thrown it in her face that she wasn't his natural mother - but she was his mother... sometimes it felt like she always had been. He loved Charlotte, his real mother, and always would. But since she was gone, he'd learned to love Michaela, too. "I'd like ta see it," he said, moving to help her set the food on the table.

Just as they finished, there was a knock at the door. It was Sully, and he was holding some paper. He handed it to Michaela and kissed her softly, something that never failed to make Matthew smile. "Am I late?" he asked.

"Right on time," Michaela said reassuringly.

Together, they sat down to a small ham that his mother had been given for delivering a baby, fluffy mashed potatoes, buttermilk biscuits, and peas from her garden. Matthew knew he'd probably be seeing the leftovers reused in various ways before the week was out. The meal passed with some quiet conversation. He explained how he was planning on driving some of the cattle into Denver for sale. At $62 per head for the three-year-olds, selling a small portion of his herd would go a long way towards supplies to finish his homestead. So far, he'd been concentrating more on fencing in the land for his cattle so he wouldn't have to rent Miss Olive's pasture anymore instead of building the house. By selling some of the older cattle, he could easily afford to build a house at least as nice and at least as big as the one Sully had built for his mother. Since Ingrid was planning for them to have her little sisters live with them, anyway, they'd need a large home.

As Dr. Mike brought out a pie for dessert, Sully cleared his throat. "It's gotten put off, 'cause we all keep forgettin', but Michaela asked me to get the paperwork today and bring it."

Michaela laid the papers next to Matthew's plate. "Will you let us adopt you, Matthew?" she asked softly. "Make you legally our son?"

"On one condition," Matthew said. "I wanna change my name; I don't wanna carry Ethan's name anymore."

Michaela and Sully exchanged glances. "We always said that would be your decision," she said.

"What d'ya wanna change it to?" Sully asked. He got up, grabbed Michaela's writing slope*, and put it next to Matthew.

Matthew had been thinking about it, on and off, since Ethan and Lillian and taken his siblings. Why should he use the name of the man who had caused him and his nothing but grief and pain? Why did he have to be stuck with it as a constant reminder of the man who had neglected them, run off on their mother, stole from her at the same time, and then stolen his siblings from their new parents? It was true he'd been "Matthew Ethan Cooper" for his entire life, but his natural father hadn't made it a name to be proud of - he'd made it a name to be ashamed of instead. He looked directly at Sully. "My middle name is after Ethan's - I want my real pa's name, instead" he said quietly. "I know ya hate your first name, Sully, but this way, I'm kinda keepin' what my first mother named me; I don't think she'd mind it if I had her friend's name."

Sully looked like he wanted to object. "Ain't a good name," he grumbled. "Always swore I'd never name a son of mine _that_." He grimaced and sat down at the table.

Michaela, who was unlocking the writing slope, looked at him. "What about your middle name?" she asked.

"Worse," Sully muttered. "Some people shouldn't be allowed to name kids."

Briefly, Matthew thought about trying to find out what Sully's middle name was, but gave up the idea in favor of dipping his pen into the inkwell and signing his new name on the paperwork. With a stroke of the pen, 'Matthew Ethan Cooper' ceased to exist and 'Matthew Byron Sully,' was legally born. With it written in the correct place, all they had to do was file the paperwork, and one of them, at least, was officially the child of Dr. Michaela Quinn and Byron Sully.

* * *

It was a bright, sunny, hot afternoon in San Francisco. Brian was sweltering in the serge sailor suit that had become his regular clothes. His mother had said he should treat this as a great adventure, but it was more like a great nightmare. His legs, upper arm, and bottom ached worse than when Miss Chambers had hit him with a ruler, and the clothes they were making him wear weren't just awful looking; the shoes pinched, the suit was hot and heavy, and the whole thing itched. His tenth birthday was coming up, and from the way Ethan and Lillian were behaving, he doubted they would remember it at all. He wanted his ma. When Miss Chambers had hurt him, Dr. Mike put salve on his bruises, rocked him, and sang him lullabies. She read him stories when he couldn't sleep, and hugged him when he was sad or upset.

Part of him felt that at almost ten, he was too old for some of that, but the rest of him just wanted his mother back and things to be the way they used to be. With a heavy sigh, he went outside into the formal gardens - the only place where he and Colleen could talk anymore. He spotted his sister sitting under a tree, heedless of what the wet grass would do to the silk gown they had her dressed in. "If you did that at home, Ma'd be mad at you," Brian observed. He sat next to her under the tree and leaned back against the trunk.

"I don't care," Colleen said. "This ain't like the dresses Ma bought me in Boston or like the ones we made - those mattered."

"Do your legs hurt, too?" Brian asked.

"No," Colleen shook her head. "My hands hurt, though. All that fancy work they want me to do hurts them a lot right now."

"Lemme see," Brian demanded.

Colleen extended her hands to him with a grimace. They had marks on them just like his legs, only not as wide. "He had a willow switch," she said, by way of explanation.

"What're we gonna do, Colleen?" Brian asked.

She sighed and slumped against the tree. "We can't take the train," she said. "We ain't got the money for it and it'd take years to save up that much - 140 dollars might as well be a million without a way to earn more, and that don't take into account food 'n stuff."

"We'll have ta walk," Brian said softly. "An' it's a long way an' over Indian Territory, too."

"It'd be dangerous us goin' lookin' like we do now," Colleen murmured. "I need ta look like a boy to start with, and we need old clothes so we don't look like we got money. I s'pose we could snitch some clothes from somewhere."

"No," Brian said firmly. "Ma says it's bad ta steal. We ain't gonna do nothin' that'd make her ashamed of us. My birthday's comin' up, we could wire Matthew an' ask him to send some old stuff disguised as presents. We didn't bring everything, and some of his old stuff should fit you."

"I'll ask for bandaging supplies, too," Colleen said thoughtfully. "If I bind my chest flat and wear loose clothes, people won't think I'm a girl."

"Colleen - we might hafta cut your hair," Brian said with a frown. "Boys don't have hair as long as yours."

Colleen sighed. "I don't want to, but if it gets us home, I will."

"Colleen?" Brian was hesitant to ask, but he didn't remember Ethan much at all before he'd left their family the first time.

"Yeah, Brian?" Colleen absently pulled some grass up by the roots.

"Did Ethan hit us before?"

Colleen looked up at him, a wry frown on her face. "No," she said. "He ignored us before. Guess he would've had to care before. Now, he just wants Lillian's pa's money and it embarrasses him when we don't treat him like he thinks we should."

"How do you know that?" Brian asked.

"Haven't you noticed how he butters Mr. Bradley up and gives in to anything he says?" Colleen asked.

"Yeah, I guess." Brian pulled up some grass on his own. "We're gonna have ta go back in soon," he said finally. "If Miss Winter has ta come lookin' for us, I bet Ethan'll get mad again."

"You'd better call him "Pa"," Colleen advised.

"But he ain't," Brian argued. "Sully's our pa. He loves us. And I sure ain't gonna call Lillian, "Ma," because she ain't either. Our real ma and pa don't let people hurt us, and they don't hurt us neither if they can help it."

"I know, Brian, but -" Colleen sighed and rested her head in her hands. "If we give 'em what they want, they'll stop watchin' so close so we can run away."

"I guess," Brian grimaced. "I just want things t' be the way they used t' be."

"Me, too, little brother, me, too." Colleen reached over and gave him a hug. "Ma was right, you know. All we've really got is family."

"I'll send the telegram," Brian offered. "They watch you closer'n me."

Colleen nodded. "We'd better go," she said softly.

"I guess." Brian stared off into the distance. "I need ta tell Ma about Ethan," he said.

"Don't, Brian," Colleen said. "It'll just hurt her, because she can't do anything about it."

"I promised, Colleen," Brian protested.

"I know, but this time you can't keep it without makin' Ma sad," Colleen said. "Don'tcha think she's sad enough already? Now let's get inside." Together, the children stood up and made their way back to the house - back into their nightmare.

* * *

Sully glanced at the list in his hand as he made his way to the telegraph office. Quickly, he went inside and put it on the counter. "I'll be with ya in a moment, Sully," Horace said absently as he transcribed a telegram. As soon as he finished, he got up and came to the counter. "Now, what can I do ya for?"

"I need ta send some telegrams, Horace - all th' same except for addresses.," Sully said.

Horace grabbed a pen and some paper. "Go ahead."

"Looking for your Uncle Teddy. Stop. Michaela wants him at the wedding. Stop. an' my name," Sully said. "An' I need ya to send it t' all her sisters; here are th' addresses." He handed over the list.

Horace glanced at the list and then put it with the paper. "Telegram got here for Matthew a few minutes ago," he said and gave it to Sully.

"I'll give it to him," Sully promised. "What do I owe ya?"

"A dollar," Horace said.

Sully grimaced at the price and pulled a crumpled bill out of his pocket. He handed it over to Horace. "Thanks," he said. "I gotta get to the mercantile an' look for somethin' for Brian for his birthday."

"See ya around, Sully," Horace said with a cheerful smile. "I'll send this right away."

Sully waved and left the telegraph office. Quickly, he walked to the Mercantile and went inside. He wasn't actually sure what Brian would like, and a great many of the little boy's things had been left behind. He walked over to the shelves where the toys were and started looking at them. He looked at the model trains first, but a glance at the price tag proved they were too much money. Jack-in-the-boxes were rejected as too babyish, and he already had a yo yo.

"Can I help ya with somethin', Sully?" Loren asked.

"I'm lookin' for a birthday present for Brian," Sully admitted.

"Got some glass marbles in," Loren said. "Better'n clay, and Dorothy ordered 'em all the way from England."

Imported? It sounded expensive to Sully, but it might be something Brian would like. He'd liked marbles as a kid, after all. "How much?" he asked.

"Seein' as they're for Brian, four bits," Loren said. He pulled a small sack of marbles out and laid them on the counter. "Haven't even put these out yet. I'll give ya a mix. Got some from Germany, too. Real purty."

Sully examined them closely. "I dunno," he said. "Don't think Brian's ever had any of those... not even sure he knows how ta play with 'em. An' he's not here for me ta teach 'im."

"He'll figure it out," Loren said. "They come with game instructions, too."

Sully looked at the marbles. Well, they were certainly attractive, he thought. He took a fifty cent piece out of his pocket. "I'll take 'em," he said.

"Be sure to wrap 'em well so's they don't break," Loren advised, pulling out some paper to wrap them.

"I'm obliged." Sully said, slipping the parcel into the pocket of his coat. He left the store and started towards the livery. He still needed to go to the reservation to talk to Cloud Dancing, and that night he'd find out what Matthew and Michaela were sending to Brian so he could add his present to it.

* * *

Elizabeth eyed Sal over the rim of her teacup. Richard had stayed, but everyone else had gone home. Even Emily, Sal's wife, had retired, leaving them to discuss her grandchildren in the parlor. "Michaela has given up, Sal," she said softly. "She thinks she's lost her children..." She handed over the packet of letters. "Is there anything that can be done?"

Salmon Chase looked at the packet of letters and grimaced. "To be honest, Elizabeth, I don't know. If there were some sort of judgment against him, there'd be a slim possibility -"

"There is," Richard cut in. He opened his briefcase, pulled out a stack of papers, and handed them over. "Charlotte Cooper divorced her husband on grounds of desertion, and was awarded full custody. She also left an unprobated will, leaving the children to Michaela. I'll be taking steps to put the will in probate tomorrow morning at start of business, but I'm afraid we may still need your help to have the case reopened."

Sal perused the papers in silence for a few minutes. "I do know a district judge in Colorado," he said slowly. "Luckily, there's nothing pending at the moment. As soon as the will is through probate, I'll go see him and find out if he's willing to help and rehear this case."

"Thank you, Salmon," Elizabeth said softly. "My grandchildren belong at home with Michaela - not in San Francisco with that... man."

"I understand what you're feeling, Elizabeth," Sal said gently. "But the law - "

"He signed adoption papers and they were filed," Richard said. "Two days later, he changed his mind, but by then it was already done. You know as well as I do that once that contract is signed -"

"I know," Sal admitted. "With the new evidence, and the Tender Years Doctrine**, Michaela has a fairly strong case, but we'll just have to wait and see."

Elizabeth sighed and put her cup and saucer down on a nearby table. She only hoped that things would go her way - that the children would be able to return home, where they belonged.

* * *

Sully crouched next to Cloud Dancing, tossing pebbles into the pond. "Michaela says Snowbird is angry with me," he said, without any other preamble. He threw in another pebble.

"Be grateful you are not married to her," Cloud Dancing said wryly. He threw a pebble in, too.

"She throwin' your stuff outta your lodge again?" Sully asked.

"Not yet," Cloud Dancing replied. "But if I do not convince you of your error and that you are insulting her sister, she may destroy my things as well and go live with Small Deer, her sister. Apparently, this is my fault for not teaching you better." He gave Sully a mournful look. "I did not think you needed my help."

Sully winced. "I'm tryin' ta locate Michaela's uncle," he said, tossing in a larger stone.

"You need to hurry, my brother," Cloud Dancing said. "The other women have taken a liking to Medicine Woman, too - she did well this morning, and she has done much for our band. It is only a matter of time before it is made official."

"You're sayin' that th' other women're gonna be for Snowbird adopting her, and if'n I don't at least offer Michaela's uncle horses for her, Snowbird and th' others..."

Cloud Dancing sighed. "I will help you get the horses."

"If it's made official, then I need ta know who Snowbird's closest male relative is," Sully said with a sigh.

"Red Moon," Cloud Dancing said. "I will still help you get the horses.

"Then I need ta know where the wild herds are," Sully said grumpily. "Why did I think this was a good idea, again?"

"Because man and woman are not meant to be separate, and you love her." Cloud Dancing turned a white pebble over and over in his hand, examining it.

"Women," Sully muttered. He shared a commiserating glance with Cloud Dancing.

"Little Hawk knows where the herds are this time of year," Cloud Dancing said. "He will help - he is married to Snowbird's sister's daughter."

"Next week is th' earliest I c'n go," Sully offered "I hafta find a place to keep 'em before we catch 'em. An' we'd be better off waitin' until we know if her uncle c'n come... or wait 'till we know if th' adoption is recognized."

"You can keep them with our herds," Cloud Dancing offered. "You know you always have a home here with us."

"I know," Sully said. Most of his extra clothing was in his tipi on the reservation - it was only in the past few years with Michaela's arrival that he'd spent most of his time in the lean-to off Cheyenne lands. "We gotta catch 'em first, anyway."

"We will," Cloud Dancing said. "It is the only way -"

"I know," Sully said. "It's just that we only got a few months 'fore th' weddin'. Lot ta do."

Cloud Dancing shook his head, a faint smile on his face. "You may have to marry twice, you know," he said conversationally. "Just so you're married in the eyes of the tribe."

Sully groaned. "Blue Feather," he said with a grimace. She'd been making eyes at him for some time, and he knew she would like nothing better than for him to play a flute for her.

Cloud Dancing's smile widened. "She's not the only one, Sully," he said. "When you and Medicine Woman marry, there will be many broken hearts in our village!"

"Women," Sully muttered again, disgusted. He'd never understand 'em. He just knew that he'd found the right one and had to hang onto her and never let her go. Because now that he'd found her, he'd never be whole without her again. He hesitated. "I'm hopin' us gettin' married will help that broken-hearted look in Michaela's eyes," he admitted. "We can't never replace Colleen an' Brian, but maybe a new baby'd help - an' we'll sure have fun tryin' ta make one."

"Snowbird is sure we will never have another," Cloud Dancing said softly. "But..." he spread his hands wide.

Sully clapped his brother on the back and stood up. "We just gotta keep on livin' an' hopin'," Sully said. "I miss our kids; but I have hope that me an' Michaela will have more."

Cloud Dancing stood. "We need to speak to Little Hawk," he said.

Sully nodded, and together, they walked back through the woods towards the village. It would work out; it had to. He honestly couldn't believe anything else. He just hoped he'd hear back from at least one of Michaela's sisters soon.

* * *

*A writing slope is a combination of a stationary box and portable writing desk, and just the sort of thing Michaela might have been given by her parents when she went away to medical school as a reminder to keep in touch. A picture of a very nice example from the period can be found- pinterest/ pin/ 33910704691323483/ (remove spaces)

** The tender years doctrine originated in the UK in 1839, but it wasn't long before it spread to the United States. By 1870, children in custody cases most often went to the mother because the thinking was that they were of "tender years" and required a mother's care. In the United States, that was considered to be 13 and under. By 1873, that was extended to 16 in the UK, and in Colleen's case, custody would have been more likely to go to her legal mother. This point of law was later replaced in the 20th century by "the best interests of the child".

* * *

_TBC..._


	4. Love and Family

**Chapter 4:**

**Love and Family**

* * *

_"Adoption carries the added connection not only to your own tribe but beyond widening the scope of what constitutes love, ties, and family. It is the larger embrace." _

_~ Isabella Rossellini _

* * *

Colleen had an idea. Why should they walk all the way to Boston when they could sail? She knew better than to think they could afford to pay their way with cash, but she'd heard of boys signing on for a short time to work their way west. There was no reason she and Brian couldn't do the same to go east! It would take months, she was sure, but if it would get them to Boston, she was game. Not only that, but she wasn't afraid of hard work, and neither was Brian. Together, they'd been giving Ethan what he wanted and slowly, the rules were relaxing somewhat. They'd been moved to the second floor where the other bedrooms were, so there were no longer bars on the windows. And there hadn't been another run-in with a switch or a strop, for which she was grateful.

Lessons were still awful and Ethan wasn't keeping his word about her being prepared for medical school. Colleen sighed and flipped through the school book she was reading. The ones in her mother's library were better, even half burned. Both her and Brian's bruises had healed, but more than anything both of them still wanted to go home. She swore she'd never complain about chores again if she was allowed to do them - even the ones she hated like plucking chickens. Brian had managed to get away and send a telegram to Matthew.

Colleen jumped as a pointer slammed down on the desk in front of her. She was supposed to be paying attention to Ms. Winter. "Colleen," her teacher said severely. "You should be paying attention to your geography!"

"Yes, ma'am," she murmured. It didn't matter that the geography in question was something she'd learned two years ago. Briefly, she wished it was something more advanced and more exciting. Algebra and geometry would be nice. Or at least something that was on her grade level.

Colleen pretended to read her geography book, but instead she was making plans. She was supposed to be taking notes, so she did - just not notes on the lesson, but instead notes on her plans. Lists of supplies they'd have to get before they left. Dried beef, hardtack, canteens, blankets, something to cook in. Perhaps it would be best to see if they could get a berth first. But she'd better be the one to do the talking, and she needed to look like a boy first. Perhaps they could get around cutting her hair if she greased it with pomade, braided it tightly, and looped the braid in on itself at the base of her neck. That might work.

She paid just enough attention to change books when required, but once again, the work was too easy. It was like they thought she was twelve instead of nearly fifteen. No matter, it left her mind free to wander and plan their escape.

* * *

Matthew read the telegram and frowned. What on earth did Colleen and Brian want old clothes for? He guessed it wouldn't hurt to wrap Brian's birthday presents in them for additional padding, anyway. They'd already started collecting presents for him. Sully had gotten him some marbles from the mercantile and made him a track to play with them on. He hadn't been sure what to do for his little brother's birthday, but Sully had come to the rescue and taught him how to make a Jacob's Ladder. Dr. Mike had bought a couple of tin toys, and was sending along the wooden train Sully had made the previous year. Loren had even asked to be included, and had given them a wrapped present to include in the crate.

Matthew went into the barn and climbed into the loft. They'd stored extra things there, on the opposite side from where he slept. He made his way to several trunks and went through the one that held his old clothing, pulling out some suspenders and two outfits, including underclothes and shoes. Charlotte had never thrown anything away that could be useful; later, and Dr. Mike had picked up the thrifty habit. She'd kept the clothing assuming that Brian would grow into it eventually. By now, both Brian's and Colleen's things that had been left behind had also been stored there. His mother hadn't been able to bring herself to pack them away or get rid of them, so Matthew and Sully had done it. Neither one of them could bear to see the sad look in her eyes when she came across something the belonged to the missing two members of their little family, so they'd packed it all and stored it in the loft for her. As time had passed, it had become slightly easier to live without Brian and Colleen, but they still lived for their weekly letters.

Truthfully, there wasn't much in them. His siblings' lives were more constrained than before, with even less access to books and such than they had living with Michaela in Colorado Springs. Matthew shut up the trunk his clothes had been in and moved on to a box marked, 'Brian'. Rummaging through it, he pulled out some of Brian's older clothing that had still fit before Ethan had taken him away, including a pair of shoes he'd mostly worn for fishing and dirty jobs. He could remember a time when they'd gone barefoot all the time during the summer months and through most of spring, but Dr. Mike taking them in had changed that. He knew her savings tin was getting full, simply because she wasn't constantly having to replace clothing and shoes as they were outgrown or became too worn to mend and there were two less mouths to feed. Before, what cash she made had either gone into buying supplies or into the household money. Staples such as flour, salt, coffee, and sugar were usually purchased, but aside from eggs and milk, the majority of the food in the house came from folks paying her in kind.

When times had been hard, his mother had often just laughed and said they'd never starve while she had a practice. And even that was supplemented by what she grew in the garden. Matthew put the clothing into a pile and stuffed it into a sack, which he threw over his shoulder. Quickly, he climbed down the ladder, left the barn, and went back to the house. He added the clothing to the small pile of things waiting to be put into a crate and mailed. With a sigh, he sat down at the kitchen table, and pulled both the paring knife and the carrots and potatoes to him and started peeling. Once Horace gave him the telegram, he'd taken the afternoon off: he figured he might as well help with dinner. After all, he'd already mucked out the henhouse and barn and put down new bedding that week, and the garden was weed-free. He'd even helped with the churning so they had butter to eat and sell.

He looked up from his work as the door opened and Dr. Mike walked in. "Thank you, Matthew," she said simply before she got another knife and started peeling as well.

"No problem," he muttered and kept working.

They worked in silence for a while, until all of the potatoes and carrots were peeled and sliced. Sully walked in just as they were finishing up, carrying some fish that had already been cleaned and scaled. Working together, it didn't take long before the carrots were cooking, and both the fish and potatoes were frying. As everything cooked, Matthew pulled the telegram out of his pocket. "Dr. Mike," he said quickly, "I got a telegram from Brian today, an' he asked for some old clothes. Dug 'em out - is it okay if we send 'em with the birthday presents?"

"I don't see why not," she answered.

Matthew released a breath he didn't even realize he was holding. "All right," he said.

"We just have to make sure they'll fit in the crate," Sully added.

Dinner was finished quickly, and as soon as everything had been cleaned up, the three of them sat near the fire, talking and simply spending time together. It was true their family wasn't whole but together they were doing their best to heal the gaping rift left by Brian's and Colleen's absence.

* * *

Time seemed to fly by for Michaela, Matthew, and Sully. Robert E had managed, with Matthew's and Sully's help, to fix the steam engine. Young Peter had been saddened when he learned of Colleen's whereabouts, because he had been looking forward to seeing her. But it was he who fetched Michaela when the workers had taken sick, perhaps remembering how she'd cured his malaria. It wasn't long after that she'd taken in Belle Starr, simply because she'd seen the vulnerable little girl lurking under the tough exterior. In the end, the girl had sneaked out and rejoined her gang after hearing the response of her family to her being found. Dr. Porter's arrival and subsequent excavation of the Cheyenne burial ground had caused great upheaval in both the town and the Quinn household. All three of them ended up spending even more time in the Cheyenne village, uncomfortable with both the reactions of the townsfolk and the anti-Indian sentiment in town. Michaela had thought at the time that the Dog Soldiers had made a very good point - if the townspeople didn't like _their_ graveyard dug up, why should they think the Indians wouldn't mind people digging up their dead?

It had seemed the thing to do to volunteer to teach the children for a few days while the Reverend recovered, but Michaela hadn't realized how hard it would be without Colleen and Brian there. Despite her distraction, it hadn't taken her long to notice that something was amiss with the new girl - Mary Ann Daggett. The little girl was always dirty, never seemed to have lunch, and her homework often wasn't done. Never having lunch in itself had made her suspicious, but she simply started packing a lunch for the child, the same way she had for Brian. Perhaps because she'd been paying close attention, it wasn't long before she noticed sores and bruises on the little girl. A visit to Mary Ann's home had proven to her exactly what was going on, but legally, there was nothing that could be done. There were laws against mistreating your horse and your dog, but not your child. It was then that she and Sully, together, had come up with a clever plan. Using Darwin's theory, they proved that Mary Ann was an animal, and thus entitled to protection under the law. Becky's family took her in, and the Reverend was back to teaching the children.

In the meantime, both she and Sully had both been spending time with the Cheyenne, both together and separately. Snowbird's ire had calmed somewhat, though Michaela wasn't sure exactly why, and they continued to work on her new outfit. Between Snowbird and the other women of Black Kettle's band, especially his wife, Medicine Woman Later, she'd been given a crash course on the domestic arts, Cheyenne style, and had learned much about their culture and heritage. Her adoption had been made official; as Snowbird had explained it, she was Cheyenne now - same as Sully. The Army had begun making itself known again by maintaining a constant presence in and around the town. Luckily, Sully had managed to fetch the promised and often denied supplies from the Army, and Michaela had been bringing in supplies as a thank you for the gift of the teaching.

The Dog Soldiers still brought in meat from hunting, but otherwise stayed away from Black Kettle's village. There hadn't been any Indian attacks in the area for a while now, so in some ways, the increased Army presence was puzzling and troubling at the same time. Sully had sent a telegram to the White House protesting Custer's return but had yet to receive a reply. In the meantime, she'd kept her ears and eyes open, watching for signs and ways to help the Cheyenne and keep the Army well away from them.

When Matthew overheard a telegram from Chivington ordering that the Cheyenne be turned away from Fort Cobb if they came there, and for Custer to go south of the Arkansas river into Indian Territory after them, Michaela rode out to the Reservation to warn them to stay put. She slid off Flash, tumbling off the back of the horse in her haste to dismount. "Cloud Dancing," she called.

Cloud Dancing came out of his lodge. "Dr. Mike?"

"Matthew overheard the Army," she said. "Custer has been ordered back and into Indian Territory near the Washita River," she explained. "Fort Cobb will turn away your band if you go there."

Cloud Dancing smiled. "It is good that we are not planning on moving right now," he observed. "Thank you for warning us," he said.

"How could I not?" she asked quietly. "You know Sully and I will do what is necessary to protect our family." She hesitated. "I had thought you might be more... angry that Custer is here."

Cloud Dancing laid his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. "As long as he stays away from me," he said, "he can be where he wants; I would not like to give him the chance to try and kill me a third time." He smiled. "But now should be a happy time - it is not so long before you will marry my blood brother," he pointed out.

"I know," Michaela said, smiling "Now, where is my sister?" she asked.

"Snowbird is teaching the children today," Cloud Dancing said.

Her eyes twinkled. "I still have some vaccinations to give the children, anyway." She went back to Flash and grabbed her bag and the bulging saddlebags and went to go find Snowbird and the children.

* * *

Brian's birthday had passed without fanfare. As he'd half-expected, Ethan and Lillian had forgotten it entirely. Lucky for him and Colleen, the package from home had also passed unremarked. He'd actually been allowed to keep what was in it. As much as he'd appreciated the toy boat and candy Loren had sent him, he would have much rather have had two tickets home. The same for the other gifts. The letters, though, those he wanted to keep. Both he and Colleen had taken to hiding any and all letters from their family in the fear that they might be taken away from them. The toys would be left without a second thought when they left for Boston, but the letters - those he would carry with him.

Their jailors had relaxed their hold on them as if they'd decided they were no longer at risk of running away. So far, Colleen's plan had worked. Miss Winter had taken ill, so they had a free day, and Ethan and Lillian would assume they were out wandering somewhere in the formal gardens, as had purposely become their habit. They'd reused the crate from Brian's birthday presents as a supply cache. So far, all it contained were a few extra blankets, the old clothing, and their savings. He'd traded in almost all of his pennies for higher denomination coins, simply because they'd be easier to carry, and Colleen was working on making a belt to stash their money in. The belt required some piecing, and she'd gotten creative with sourcing the canvas for it - raiding the attic and appropriating some cushion covers she'd found there.

The same source had been used for making sacks to carry supplies in - not that they intended to take much with them - but it would be suspicious if they had nothing, and they intended on bringing with them a few badly worn things they'd found in the attic. Together, they'd come up with a story; that they were orphans making their way to Boston where their last living relations were. They'd agreed that their names should be "Colin Sully" and "Brian Sully" respectively. In part, because if Ethan hadn't stolen them, that's what their last names would be, and the fact that Colleen needed a boy's name to get by. Today, they were planning to go to the harbor and try to find a ship going east that would hire them. Going by water would take months, but walking through Indian Territory? Not all Indians were friendly, and both of them figured that as two children alone, they'd be safer aboard a ship.

Quietly, Brian crept to the spot near the hedges that bordered the property where they'd agreed to meet. "Colleen!" he hissed.

His sister stepped out, looking for all the world like a boy. "Ya need ta get changed," she said in a low voice as she doubled up her long braid and fastened it in the back. Her hair was slicked back with pomade into the braid, darkening it and making her look even less like a girl. Somehow, she'd managed to completely hide her figure, making her look straight-up-and-down... just like a boy.

"How'd ya..." Brian gestured towards her hidden figure curiously.

"Took th' boning out of one of them fancy corsets an' made my own," she muttered. "It's padded in places and, um, flattens other things. Glad I paid attention when Ma dressed like a man for th' race."

"So you can walk like a boy?" Brian asked. "'Cause you weren't there when Sully was teachin' her."

"Yeah," she said. "I think I can manage."

"Good - now I gotta change," Brian informed her. Quickly, he pulled off the hated sailor suit, stockings, shoes and hat, exchanging them for a worn and patched plaid shirt, socks, well-worn lace-up boots, patched trousers and braces over his combinations*. Luckily, their calluses hadn't softened yet, and they hadn't lost their tans from time spent in the sun, so with their "new" clothing, they certainly didn't look like they came from an upper-class family.

Colleen silently folded Brian's clothing and stashed it back in the box with what she'd been wearing. It was possible they'd have to make this trip more than once before they found a job and berth for both of them. If they were lucky, they'd find a ship headed east that could use two "boys" that day, but chances were they wouldn't be lucky. Even if they were lucky, they'd probably have to return, anyway. "Ready?" Colleen asked. She'd lowered the register of her voice some so that it sounded boyish.

"Let's go." Brian tied his laces and stood. They made their way to a gap they'd found in the hedge surrounding the property. Luckily, it was in an unfenced place, so they were able to simply walk through it and cut through the neighboring lot. Together, they made their way to the docks and began going from ship to ship, inquiring of destinations and if they had work for the both of them. They concentrated on steamers, figuring that immigrant ships would be their best bet - most likely, they'd have to at least stop in New York or Chicago to resupply. There were only three ships going close to their destinations - the Ceder, the Belle, and the Friedrich. All of them would eventually be heading to Germany to pick up more immigrants, but they were going back around the coast first. A few more inquiries found that the Belle would be leaving first, and they needed some cabin boys to help wait on the first class passengers and do some of the clean up.

They'd gotten lucky, Brian knew. It had been disheartening to find out it would take a full six months to get from San Francisco to New York, and then they'd still have to walk to Boston. There would be stops along the way to resupply, so if they wanted, they could actually get off earlier than that. The ship departed the next week, so they'd have to go ahead and make preparations on the sly. The man who'd hired them had made sure they knew that orders were to be obeyed instantly and looked askance at their clothes, muttering something about how it was good there were uniforms. They'd only signed a short-term contract of two months, citing the fact that they had no experience at all and if things worked out, they'd sign on again to go all the way to New York.

Thanking the man profusely, Colleen and Brian left the docks and headed back towards Ethan's and Lillian's mansion. "Colleen?" Brian said quietly.

"Call me Colin," she said, just as quietly. "Remember? I'm being a boy on this trip,"

"Yeah." Brian hesitated. "Colin?" he said.

"Yeah?" Colleen answered.

"Think we're doin' th' right thing?"

"No," was her soft reply. "We're doing the _only_ thing we can do to get by."

"I guess," Brian said. "It's just that Mama and Pa are gonna be awful worried..."

"Can't be helped," Colleen shook her head. "We'll try an' send 'em letters when we get inta ports of call ta let 'em know we're safe."

"I guess." Brian stuffed his hands into his pockets, savoring how it felt to be wearing _real_ clothes instead of Lillian's choices. He hoped it would work, because more than anything, he wanted to be home where he belonged. But on the cusp of their journey, he couldn't help but worry - it was up to him to protect his sister, and help her maintain the masquerade. He'd heard too many stories and seen too many dime novels to believe if people found out she was a girl everything would be okay. Suddenly, it hit him how dangerous what they were doing was. But it would work. It had to. There was no other outcome he would let himself imagine.

* * *

Sully let out a deep breath as he read the letter. Rebecca had been the only one to answer, and she'd sent him a copy of their uncle's tour schedule. The wedding was set for the twentieth of May, and he knew Michaela would probably appreciate having her uncle there, to give her away if nothing else. The adoption had been recognized and the ceremony performed, but he hadn't been there at the time to see it. He'd been working on her wedding present.

"Good news, Sully?" Horace asked.

"Hm?" Sully looked up. He'd opened the letter immediately, hoping to find out what he needed and save himself another trip into town. "Oh, yeah. I need ta send a telegram, Horace."

"Where to?" Horace asked.

"Theodore Quinn, Grand Hotel, Chicago, Illinois," Sully said. Luckily, Chicago was her uncle's last stop before a three-month break, so he was actually free for the wedding.

"All right," Horace wrote it down quickly. "An' what do ya want it to say?"

Myra came out of the back, rocking Samantha, who was crying. "Hey, Myra," Sully muttered. The distraction gave him time to think. "Um... Getting married. Stop. Please come. Stop. Wedding set for May 20. Stop. Mother given blessing, would like yours. Stop. Love, Michaela."

"Got it." Horace scribbled down the rest, then stopped to drop a kiss on Samantha's head.

"Who's Theodore Quinn?" she asked curiously.

Sully held out his arms and she handed Samantha over. He bounced her a little and got her to momentarily stop crying. He had hopes they'd be expecting one of their own before the year was out, so he figured he needed a little practice. "Michaela's uncle," he said. "An' her godfather. If Elizabeth comes, she prob'ly won't give her away, so I figure if he'll come, he c'n do it."

"Makes sense," Horace commented as he started sending the telegram.

"I'm gonna wait here for a bit ta see if we get a response," Sully said.

Horace nodded absently, his attention on the telegram.

"Why won't Dr. Mike's ma give her away?" Myra asked. "I mean, it's not like her pa can do it!"

Sully shrugged, his attention on the baby. "She's kinda..." he paused, "traditional. I bet she'll say it ain't her place, 'cause she ain't a man."

Myra just shook her head and then held out her hands for Samantha. "If my ma were still here and my pa weren't, I bet she woulda given me away," she commented. "But aside from Horace and Samantha, I ain't got much family left."

"There's a lotta folk like that," Sully said.

Horace finished sending the telegram. "That'll be two bits," he said.

Sully pulled some money from his pouch and counted it out. "There ya go," he said.

Samantha snuggled into Myra's arms and fell asleep. "Why look at that!" she said wonderingly. "She still don't sleep much. Dr. Mike says it's nothin' ta worry about, but so far nothin' me or Horace does'll make her settle like that."

Horace leaned on the counter. "Not that long now 'til your and Dr. Mike's weddin'," he said.

Sully smiled. It was true there was a lot to do still - he had to catch the horses, for one, but he couldn't wait. It still hurt when he thought of their two missing kids, but as long as he had Michaela, he figured he could live though anything. "No," he said, "not long."

"Me an' the others at the sewin' circle have been makin' lace for her wedding dress," Myra looked up from the baby. "All the books say that handmade lace is the best way to go - none of that machine stuff ya can buy at the mercantile."

Sully grinned. "I thought I wasn't supposed ta know these things."

"You're not supposed ta see the dress before," Myra said. "Now, I'd better go put Samantha down." She turned and left the office, leaving Horace and Sully there.

"You're lucky, ya know," Sully said quietly. "You got your family, an' nobody can come along and take your little girl away from you."

The comment made Horace pause for a moment. "Missin' Colleen an' Brian?" he asked.

Sully looked uncomfortable. "Ev'ry day," he said. He smiled a little. "Might've taken me and Michaela longer if it weren't for the kids' matchmakin' all the time."

Horace leaned against the counter. "Prob'ly won't get a reply until tomorrow," he advised. "I'll bring it straight out ta the homestead."

"I'll stop in tomorrow," Sully promised. "Otherwise, I'll be workin' on th' new house all day today an' tomorrow."

"Gettin' close ta finished?" Horace asked.

"Just a few finishin' touches," Sully said. "An' I gotta finish Michaela's weddin' present." With a nod to Horace, he left the telegraph office. He had to talk to Michaela, and she was out at the Reservation again. He had a trip to plan and horses to catch - not only that, but he needed to spend some time working on the bed and, as he'd told Horace, he needed to put just a few finishing touches on their house.

* * *

*Combinations have their origins in the boys' skeleton suit that was popular from 1790-1830. ( pinterest pin/ 339107046913325265/ (remove spaces) for a picture of a skeleton suit) While grown men had union suits (we saw them in _Bad Water_) or shirts that buttoned to the bottoms, little boys had an all-in-one configuration consisting of high-waisted drawers attached to an undershirt. While little boys _did_ wear union suits in cold weather, combinations seem to have been their most common form of underwear. The basic design didn't change all that much through the decades, and eventually migrated into women's fashion, replacing the chemise and drawers of the Victorian era. For a picture of what Brian's combinations might have looked like, go to pinterest pin/ 339107046913230644/ (remove spaces)

* * *

_TBC..._


	5. New Beginnings

**Chapter 5:**

**New Beginnings**

* * *

_"Better to fight for something than live for nothing."_

**_-General George S. Patton_**

* * *

It took three days for Ethan and Lillian to truly notice Colleen and Brian were missing. It was just that Miss Winter had continued to be ill, and they were so far removed from the children's daily lives and caught up in their own world of social events they simply didn't notice. Ethan went to the police and search parties were sent out, but it was far too late. The Belle had left days earlier, and the only trace found of the children was the crate containing the clothing they'd last been seen in. All their written correspondence had gone with them, as well as any photographs they'd brought with them, though almost everything else - all the little treasures important to children - had been left behind, discarded as if unimportant. Some food was missing from the kitchen, and the children's savings were gone, but other than that, nothing else seemed to be missing.

William Bradley sat in his office, for once doing nothing but thinking about what had happened. Perhaps it was his fault, at least a little, but the greater part of him wanted to blame Ethan. He'd been speaking to Lillian and learned that the children had been happy and healthy in their former home. In fact, he'd even hired the Pinkerton Agency to investigate his son-in-law and discovered that one Mrs. Elizabeth Weston Quinn had done the same. In the report, he learned some less-than-savory things about the man his daughter had married which had made him change his will. He didn't fault the children - they seemed to be made of stronger stuff than their father. He suspected it had to do with the two women who had raised them more than anything. He had no illusions about his Lillian. She had been a fragile baby who barely survived infancy, becoming a delicate child, and her health still was precarious at times. He had spoiled her, fearing that every breath would be her last and as a result, she was somewhat selfish. Knowing what he now knew about the man, he wondered if Ethan had married her knowing he was his sole heir and if she died, as her husband, his entire fortune would go to Ethan.

He'd taken steps to ensure that didn't happen. Lillian had fallen in love with Ethan's three children. She'd told him quite a bit about Matthew, the oldest, who being of age could choose for himself. He had chosen to stay with his adoptive parents. He had witnessed Ethan's tantrum when he received a notification that Matthew had chosen to be adopted and changed his name to reflect that of his adoptive father. He'd also seen him take it out on the other two. Ethan was not the kind of man he would have chosen for his daughter, but he'd never been able to deny her anything. He saw more than most people thought he did. With his heart condition, he could go at any time, so he'd made sure his fortune would be in good hands. He hadn't gone back on leaving the fortune in trust for Lillian and Ethan's children and the adoption for Brian and Colleen in Lillian's name had been filed months ago, but he had changed who would administer the trust.

It was true he'd never met them, but when he died, his entire fortune aside from a small annuity for Lillian, would go into trust for all three of Ethan's children under the control of Dr. Michaela Quinn and Byron Sully. Pinkerton hadn't only investigated Ethan for him; he'd done his research, and he knew all about Dr. Quinn's life and where she came from. The Quinns and the Westons were wealthy families - old money, to be truthful. And to give it all up to be a frontier doctor took grit and gumption that he admired. And then to take in three children when she hadn't quite even been established and was a spinster to boot took even more gumption. And Mr. Sully's championing of rights for the Indians was something to be admired, too. He was still waiting for the full report on Mr. Sully, though - apparently he had bounced around quite a bit and thus his history was harder to track. He was sure that unlike Ethan and perhaps even Lillian, they wouldn't spend the children into the poorhouse. He just wished they hadn't disappeared like they had. He was worried. He had put out feelers all over the country and gone back to Pinkerton to hire them to track Colleen and Brian down.

Unlike the police, Pinkerton had actually made some progress. Two "boys" similar to the description of the children had been seen boarding a steamship in the harbor. While he was apprehensive, especially with the vagaries of sea travel, it was most likely they were safe. Pinkerton was still searching for any clue of their whereabouts, but if they'd really gone to sea, it would be months before they'd get a lead. Ethan had left for Colorado Springs that morning to see if they'd gone back there, and most likely to accuse Dr. Quinn and Mr. Sully of aiding their escape. He'd muttered something about contacting the marshal in Denver to ride with him, which had William a little anxious.

There was a knock at the door of his study. "Father?" Lillian came in, holding a tray. "I brought you something to eat and your medicine."

"Thank you," he said. "Have you heard from your husband?"

Lillian shook her head and lowered her eyes. "I don't expect to hear from him until he reaches Colorado Springs." She set the tray down on the desk in front of him.

"Why did you take the children, anyway?" he asked suddenly, watching as she poured him a cup of tea and fixed it to his liking.

"Dr. Quinn told me I couldn't have any of my own," she said softly. "And they were Ethan's children, so why not?"

"Because they already had a home and parents who loved them," he said dryly. "I wouldn't have minded the two of you adopting a baby from one of the orphanages."

"At least this way I knew their parents were married and not street trash," she retorted.

"So it's come to that," William said softly. "I can't believe I've raised such a child - one so class conscious and selfish as this."

"We could do better by them than their being raised by a mountain man and a country doctor!" she protested.

"Did you ever sit in on that governess's lessons?" he asked. "She was teaching them below grade level - I know because I actually _talked_ to Brian and Colleen occasionally. They hated it here, you know. And as for that country doctor, she has better breeding than you do, my dear. And I was a mountain man once. I made my money in the fur trade." He picked up the cup and took a sip.

"But they live in such a backwater!" Lillian stomped her foot. "They can't afford servants, don't have running water, and there's _nothing_ in that town."

William merely raised an eyebrow. "You were born in a town like that," he said placidly. "We were lucky enough to have a doctor there to take care of you after the midwife lost your mother, and we moved on as soon as I could afford it so you could have better medical care."

"Those children are _mine_," she said, "_Mine_ and Ethan's!"

"No," he corrected gently. "Ethan gave up that right when he abandoned them for the first time nine years ago and again two years ago. I did some checking..." He reached into his desk drawer, pulled out a file and handed it to her. "The accusations against Ethan are true. All of them. He's a liar, a cheat, a thief, and a swindler. It's only by the grace of God, Charlotte Cooper, and Michaela Quinn that his children are better than he is. That's whom the children should belong to - Michaela Quinn and her intended, Byron Sully. Ethan did nothing to help his ex-wife support the children, nor did he send anything to support them in the two years that they were living with Dr. Quinn."

It was obvious that she hadn't thought of this before. After all, they had plenty of money... and yet Ethan had contributed nothing to support the children he claimed to love so much. His children had been living on charity for the past few years - it was just lucky they ended up in the custody of someone who loved them. Most people would have shipped Colleen and Brian off to the nearest orphanage without a second thought. "Read it, Lillian," he ordered. "Learn what kind of man you really married."

"But Father," she protested.

William shook his head. "You need to do some thinking, dear," he said. "You need to ask yourself what kind of harm your selfishness has caused and what harm it could still cause."

Lillian left the room in a huff, but she was still clutching the Pinkerton report. Using the Pinkertons was a necessary evil these days. And Ethan wasn't the only one William had them investigate - he'd asked for reports on everyone involved. The children were better off in Colorado Springs. He deeply regretted his daughter and son-in-law's actions to the point where he had contacted Michaela's brother-in-law, Richard, and thrown his money behind the appeal. He wanted what was best for Brian and Colleen, and with all his heart, he hoped by the time they resurfaced, they would be able to go home.

* * *

Ethan Cooper drove his buggy into Colorado Springs as if the hounds of Hell were after him. The federal marshal from Denver, David Cook*, was with him to help him bring the children home and arrest Dr. Quinn and Sully for kidnapping if they had them. He had to get them back! They were his ticket to the good life, and without them he'd never come into all that lovely money. He had spent his life in search of money and status - things he hadn't found with Charlotte - but now had with Lillian. He would not lose that for a couple of enfant terribles!

Ethan's fists clenched around the reigns, and he urged the horse to go faster. They hurried into town and he pulled up next to the clinic. Jumping down from the buggy, he tied the horse to the hitching post, barely waiting for the marshal before storming over to the clinic door and ringing the bell.

Dr. Quinn answered the door, wiping her hands on a cloth. "Yes?" she said, before she realized who it was. "Ethan?" she questioned. "Where are Brian and Colleen?"

"That's what I'd like to know, Dr. Quinn," he sneered. "I know you and Sully have them, and I want them _back_." He reached out, took her arm, and yanked her out of the doorway. "Where are they?"

"Now hold on a minute, Mr. Cooper," Marshall Cook said as he hooked his thumbs in his belt. "Nothin's been proven, and ta me it looks like she don't know what you're talkin' about."

"How long have they been missing?" she demanded.

"A few weeks," Ethan said impatiently.

"Unless their savings have grown since they lived with me, they don't have the money to take the train to Denver and then the stage here," she said evenly. "And _my_ children wouldn't come here, because they know you'd look here for them _first_." Her voice wavered. "How _could_ you lose them like that Ethan? They were _safe_ here with Sully and me!"

"Ma'am," Marshal Cook cleared his throat. "Do you have any idea where they could have gone?"

Dr. Quinn shook her head. "Sully doesn't have any family that I know of, Marshal," she said. "And my family is too far away - I know they didn't have the funds to reach Boston."

Ethan didn't know what to say. He hadn't thought it through well - he'd just assumed the children had gone back to Colorado Springs. He dropped the doctor's arm.

"Might I have your family's contact information?" Marshal Cook asked.

"Certainly," Dr. Quinn murmured. Her hands were shaking as she went back into the clinic and emerged a few moments later, scribbling something on a piece of paper with a pencil and handing it over. "If you'll excuse me," she said, then went back in, and closed the door behind her.

Marshal Cook sent Ethan a dirty look. "Why don't ya let _me_ to the talkin', Mr. Cooper?" he challenged. "With th' way ya attacked that lady, I ought to haul you in myself. If ya left any marks from grabbin' 'er, I jus' might!"

Ethan cleared his throat. "We'll have to ask around to find out where Sully is," he said. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down yet again. They'd find the children. There was no other outcome. And then they'd pay for running from him.

* * *

Sully, Cloud Dancing, Little Wolf, and three other braves sat on their horses on a ridge overlooking a valley observing a herd of wild horses. "We should try for at least ten," one of them said. Sully didn't see who had said it and didn't know the other three well enough to recognize their voices.

"No, White Eagle," Little Wolf shook his head. "Medicine Woman is worth more than that - her strong medicine has saved many of us, including Black Kettle!"

"But you can get a fine wife for five," Gray Bear protested.

"I promised Black Kettle that the band can have any extra," Sully said. They'd brought more people on this trip because of Michaela's warning. The six of them had spent hours carefully scouting the area for signs of the Army's presence and found nothing.

With nods and hand signals, they rode down to the herd and cut out twenty horses. The herd had been a large one, and twenty were only a small part of it. Working together, they drove the horses back towards the village. They were only two days out, but they still had to stop overnight. When it came time to make camp, they hobbled the horses and by twos, stood watch to make sure none of them ran off or got stolen in the night. Normally, that would be the boys' job in the village, but these were fresh caught wild Plains horses and they didn't have any of the boys along to watch them. The men spent the night swapping stories and giving Sully advice on marriage.

He simply laughed. "I was married before," he pointed out.

"But Medicine Woman is different," Cloud Dancing pointed out.

Sully nodded. "She is my heartsong," he said. "If I had met her first, I never would have married my first wife."

White Eagle laughed. "Does she have sisters? You should marry them, too!"

Sully shuddered. "Four that are not Cheyenne. Three are already spoken for, and only a fool would marry the fourth!"

Little Hawk eyed him. "She is that bad?"

"She has a sharp tongue and a bad attitude," he explained. "I prefer Medicine Woman. She may tell you exactly what she thinks, but she is not mean about it!"

"Mean?" Cloud Dancing looked curious. "But Medicine Woman will help anyone..."

"Her sister would not throw water on you if you were on fire," Sully said with a grimace. "Medicine Woman says it is in part because her husband divorced her and she is bitter."

Little Hawk shook his head. "Keep the one you have," he advised.

Sully grinned. "I intend to," he said. "Only one thing I know about women - when you find the right one, you marry her and never let her go."

Cloud Dancing laughed and clapped Sully on the back. "I have done so," he said cheerfully.

Sully stared into the fire, content to just be there. Soon, his life would change again, but it would be a welcome change. It was true the Cheyenne were his adopted family, and now Michaela's as well, but soon he would again marry and have some one to love who was his - made for him. He was fairly certain they were made just for each other. As different as they were, in a strange way, they just... fit. The main obstacle standing in his way was Snowbird's brother, Red Moon. He had a feeling it might be something of a fight - but it would be worth it.

* * *

Colleen leaned against the railing and stared out over the water, watching the waves roll in and out and dash against the side of the ship. She would never again complain about simple chores like scrubbing the clinic or the homestead. She knew better now. It wasn't that their assigned tasks were difficult per se, but they seemed never ending. Swabbing what seemed to be miles of decks. Cleaning staterooms and holds. Running errands for the Captain and his officers. The Belle was far from a luxury cruise liner, but even it had passengers separated into classes. And all of it needed to be cleaned. Once they found out she was a fairly good cook, they sent her to the galley to help in preparing meals.

The cook was nice enough, and always insisted on feeding both herself and Brian, saying he knew the appetites of growing boys, having two of his own. There were few people they had to steer clear of, as most were friendly enough. She and Brian tried to keep to themselves as much as possible, especially as their sleeping area consisted of bunks with other cabin boys and stewards whose tasks were pretty much the same as theirs. It was the captain, though, who made Colleen uneasy. The moment he heard their names, he'd given them strange looks, and the looks continued every time he saw them. It had been a month since they'd come on board, and soon their parents would be getting married. A wave of homesickness hit her. She'd wanted to be there - to be a bridesmaid, but it wouldn't be happening.

It wouldn't have happened if they had stayed put, either, because she'd overheard Ethan and Lillian discussing it. Brian walked up beside her. "Colin?" he asked.

"Yeah?"

"What are we gonna do when we get to N'Orlins?" Brian pronounced it the way Grace had.

"Dunno," she admitted. "Check out how much train tickets are, I s'pose. If we can manage it, I'd rather ride the train the rest of the way."

"Think we'll ever get to Aunt Rebecca?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. "But it might take us six months this way, and then we'd still hafta get from New York ta Boston."

"Train'd be faster," Brian agreed. "Accordin' to the maps, it's over fifteen hundred miles from N'Orlins ta Boston overland, and if we figure twenty miles a day, that's another two-and-a-half months, walkin'."

"Train'd be easier," she admitted. "An' you're right, it'd be faster, too. Do ya like the ship?" she asked suddenly.

"Yeah," Brian grinned. "Maybe someday I'll join the Navy and see the world."

Colleen smiled a little. "But then you'd have to wear sailor suits all the time," she pointed out.

Brian made a disgusted face. "Forget it, then," he said, "I'll find a way ta be on a ship that don't include lookin' like a sissy."

Colleen looked at the sky. It was harder without land to tell the time by the sun, but she managed. "Time ta go ta help in the galley," she said. "You ought to come if ya wanna eat."

"All right," Brian said with a sigh. "More potatoes ta peel for me."

Colleen laughed and straightened up. "There's always potatoes ta peel," she said cheerfully.

As the two of them started towards the galley, her thoughts again drifted homeward, towards Colorado Springs. Dr. Mike had written of wedding preparations, how the sewing circle had busily been making lace for her wedding dress, and how Myra, of all people, had been reading them a book on etiquette for the wedding. As far as anyone knew, her mother still wasn't planning on coming to the wedding, though Aunt Rebecca was and Uncle Richard was hoping to get away in time to attend. She'd also written about the Cheyenne, and how Snowbird seemed to be planning another wedding for her at the Reservation so Sully's family could attend.

With all her heart, Colleen wished they could be there. It had been two years since Brian had so innocently asked Sully to marry their mother. Two years since the three of them had plotted to get her and Sully together in Boston. They'd hand-picked Sully for their mother, and it just didn't seem fair that they didn't get to be there to see him officially become their father. And truthfully, she was hoping and praying for a baby sister for her to spoil and that she and Brian would be home by then... where they belonged.

* * *

In Boston, Richard had filed the paperwork to probate Charlotte Cooper's will. The main clause in it was about the children; she had owed more on the boarding house than it was worth, and left nothing much behind but debt. He knew from letters that Michaela had written his wife that she had managed to settle all of the debts but the boarding house, and had bought that later from the bank to use as a clinic. The household goods, such as they were, had gone with the children, as had already been written into the will. The only thing that really mattered in the will was custody of the children, which she had given to his sister-in-law, or if Michaela couldn't do it, to one Olive Bray Davis, who was also currently deceased.

It was also written into the will that under no circumstances was Ethan to have custody of any of the children, citing neglect and abandonment. Because the will was so simple, and because Sal knew someone who knew someone in that area, and the fact that the debts were long settled, the will would be through probate by the end of April at the latest. At any rate, it had been properly filed - but had been overlooked. Part of it, Richard knew, was because there hadn't been any sort of real inheritance left behind. He'd probated wills many times in hi career, and usually, those left behind ended up fighting over the monies and properties bequeathed. In that respect, this was no different - only in this case, the only "property" worth having was the custody of the children.

It was an important first step to regain custody of Brian and Colleen for Michaela. The case would be further complicated by the fact that both they and Ethan Cooper were in California. Richard drew n a deep breath and expelled it. He'd been doing more research into family law as it wasn't his specialty, and he was fairly sure they could use the "tender years" doctrine for Brian, at least, as he was only ten. Since Sal had mentioned it, he'd done more research, and he was hoping Sal was right and it would work. And most judges didn't seem to like to award custody of girls Colleen's age to their fathers. The thinking was that girls that age needed their mothers to teach them how to become good wives and mothers. There was nothing more he could do at the moment. Perhaps he should just go home. After all, he didn't have any pressing cases right then. And he would like to spend some time with Rebecca and the children - who wouldn't be children for much longer.

Richard sighed and began to gather up the papers and stack them neatly. Opening the drawer of his desk, he carefully put them away. It took a matter of minutes to gather his things. He put on his hat and gloves and grabbed his briefcase. He locked the door of his office behind himself and stopped next to his secretary's desk. "I'm going home, Jack," he told the man. "I need to spend some time with my family."

Jack nodded. "Yes, sir," he said. "I'll let your partners know."

"Thanks, Jack, see you next week." Richard made his way out of the building and started towards home. It wouldn't hurt the children to miss a day of school. Perhaps they could go in a picnic in the park.

* * *

Sully held Michaela as hot, salty tears filled his eyes. He hadn't been there when Ethan had come to town because he'd still been out obtaining the horses. His shirt was damp from her tears, and she clung to him tightly. The children were missing. The sentence echoed in his head, over and over. Feelings of helplessness engulfed him. He didn't know what, if anything, they could do other than pray. It wasn't like the last time they'd run off - he couldn't track them through the mountains when they'd run away in the middle of a strange city. "They're okay, Michaela," he said hoarsely.

"How do you know?" she asked, pulling back.

He pulled a bandana from his pocket and wiped away her tears. "Because our kids are smart," he said softly. "Brian loves ships, remember?"

She nodded. "He was fascinated by them," she admitted.

"Most likely, they signed onta a ship ta work their way east," Sully said. "It's what I'd do if I didn't have a lotta money and didn't wanna walk all th' way ta Boston." What he didn't mention was what he and Daniel _had_ done, coming west. It had seemed like the most surefire way possible to get to the gold fields at the time.

"They wouldn't hire a girl," Michaela said slowly. "But what if they don't _know_ she's a girl - Brian asked for some of Matthew's old clothes, remember?"

"I bet they're gonna go ta one of your sisters," Sully said. "Your mother's house'll be th' first place they'll look for 'em."

"Rebecca," Michaela murmured. "They'll go to Rebecca."

Sully hugged her gently. "We'll send her a telegram," he said. "The kids'll be found, Michaela - it may take a few months, but we'll find 'em." A few months - too long to Sully's mind. _Anything_ could happen. But it made sense. He'd had a chance to question Marshal Cook, and there hadn't been much information at all. It was like they'd simply disappeared... and in a harbor city like San Francisco, the obvious answer was they'd boarded a ship. He and Michaela just needed to pray and have faith that Brian and Colleen would make it home safely.

* * *

*David J. Cook was a real person. He was marshal in Denver from 1866-1869 and arrested over 3,000 outlaws during his career. In 1868, he tracked down the notorious Musgrove-Franklin Gang, that was credited with twelve murders. He arrested one of their leaders, Lee H. Musgrove in the Wyoming Territory. He transported him to jail in Denver and predicted that his partner, Ed Franklin, would attempt a rescue. He was right. Upon the rescue attempt, Cook shot Franklin dead. He was solely responsible for the founding of the "Rocky Mountain Detective Association", a freelance, volunteer-only group of Colorado troubleshooters, similar to the Pinkerton Detective Agency. Although its offices were in Denver, its cases took him all over the West. Because there was a two year gap between Denver federal marshals in the list I managed to dig up, I've taken some artistic license and extended his term as marshal by another year.

_**TBC...**_


	6. Acts of Faith

**Chapter 6:**

**Acts of Faith**

* * *

_"Creating a family in this turbulent world is an act of faith, a wager that against all odds there will be a future, that love can last, that the heart can triumph against all adversities and even against the grinding wheel of time."_

_-Dean Koontz, "From the Corner of His Eye"_

* * *

Michaela and Grace sat side-by-side at a trestle table, flipping through _"Godey's Lady Book"_ and _"Harper's Bazaar_." Every once in a while, Grace would stop and show Michaela a picture from one of the fashion plates. Other women sat around the room, some piecing together patchwork, others making lace. "I'm not sure what I want, Grace," Michaela admitted. "Lace, yes, but otherwise..." she trailed off.

"We'll figure something out, Dr. Mike," Grace said comfortingly. "There's time still."

"I always wanted a gown with a train," Michaela said wistfully.

"Okay, so we're only lookin' at dresses with trains," Grace turned another page.

Dorothy came over. "Found anything yet, Michaela?" she asked.

Michaela shook her head. "I'm not certain," she admitted.

Grace smiled. "Every little girl dreams of her weddin' day," she said.

"It's true," Michaela admitted. "But my father _can't_ be there, and my mother _won't_, so it will be nothing like I'd planned," she smiled crookedly. "But I never planned falling in love with Sully, either."

Dorothy laughed. "We can't always plan everything, Michaela," she said. "Now, Loren promised me he'd sell us fabric at his cost as a weddin' present, so we need ta decide what ta get and how much we need. How wide are we makin' the skirt - how wide is your biggest hoop, anyway?" she asked.

"I don't know," Michaela admitted. "I'll have to retrieve them from the loft," she explained. "They're up there with most of my Boston gowns because they're just not terribly practical."

"Pretty, though," Grace commented absently as she turned another page. "We don't see gowns like that out here - haven't seen the like since I left Louisiana."

"It's your weddin' dress," Dorothy said. She frowned a little and put her hands on her hips. "It don't need ta be practical."

"Of course it doesn't," Michaela said with a wry smile, "until in the middle of the ceremony, when there's an emergency, and I have to run off to treat someone -"

"Won't happen," Dorothy said. "Nobody'd dare." Her hands dropped to her sides, and she looked wistful. "Never got ta help with my girls," she said. "Maybe a lace overlay..." she trailed off, obviously thinking out loud.

"I suppose we should be thankful my mother isn't coming," Michaela said as she turned another page. "She completely took over my sisters' weddings and I know she'd do the same here - and this _isn't_ a Boston society affair."

Grace sighed and turned a page. "You two plannin' on gettin;' married in th' church, or usin' th' meadow?" she asked.

"I haven't discussed it with Sully yet," she admitted. "But the church won't hold the whole town, so it will probably be in the meadow."

"I'll cook for it," Grace offered. "Come by the café tomorrow an' we'll set the menu."

Michaela nodded and turned the page again. Scanning the pictures, she spotted it - it was perfect. "Like that," she said, tapping her finger on the picture. In some ways, it was reminiscent of the black and silver gown she'd worn when Sully had taken her out for dinner and dancing in Boston, except it had a short train. "I don't know if we can do this one," she said softly. "It would take us too long to embroider all of that, though we could substitute the lace for it.. and that we'd need to order, because I don't think we could manage to make enough lace to do that."

Dorothy pursed her lips, and Michaela could tell it wasn't what she'd had in mind. "Are ya sure, Michaela?" she asked.

Michaela nodded. There was a kind elegance to the design, and like the silver and black gown she'd worn out with Sully, it was beautiful. The neckline was off the shoulder, and she could just see how it would look in all white with a lace veil and some orange blossoms in her hair. "I'm sure," she said. "It reminds me of what I wore when Sully asked me out for supper in Boston. I still want a lace veil..." she trailed off.

"It's magnificent," Grace examined the picture. "We might be able ta do somethin' like that."

"I dunno," Dorothy said doubtfully. "Looks mighty fancy."

"Michaela?" Hank stuck his head through the door. He was holding his arm. "I need ya ta stitch me up."

She stood and pushed the magazine away. "Certainly," she grabbed her bag. "Let's just go to my clinic." She left the room and headed over to the clinic with Hank trailing her. It was a short walk, and once there she unlocked the door and gestured Hank inside. "Up on the table and let me see," she requested as she put on an apron. He removed his hand from his upper arm and she controlled the urge to wince in sympathy. The gash was long and deep, and there seemed to be something embedded in it, as if he'd been both cut and stabbed in the same place.

"Had ta throw a couple drunks outta the bar, an' one of 'em took offense," Hank offered. "Got me twice in the same place."

"I see that," She grabbed a bandage and pressed it against the wound. "Hold that, please." She walked over to her instrument case and gathered a few supplies. "There's a piece of what he used to stab you with embedded in your arm," she explained.

"Knife," he said. "Guess he musta snapped off the tip."

"I'll give you some chloroform, and then I'll take out the piece of the blade," she said.

"Don't want ya ta put me out," she said. "I'll hold still."

She glanced at him. "If you move and I slip..."

"I won't." he had a stubborn look on his face she recognized well.

"If you're sure.." She grabbed the scalpel and made a careful incision, widening the place where the piece of blade was embedded into his arm. She dropped the scalpel into a basin with a carbolic acid solution in it, picked up the tweezers, and used them to remove the object from his arm. She laid the tweezers in the basin as well, and then disinfected the wound thoroughly. She picked up a threaded needle and began to stitch the wound. Quickly and efficiently, she sutured the wounds, mending torn muscles and blood vessels, and finally skin. Finishing up, she wiped the sticky blood from her hands and bandaged his arm.

"I'd like it if you stayed here for a few days, because it will have to be bathed often in an antiseptic, but I know better," she said ruefully.

"I'll bathe it myself, Michaela," he said.

"I want you to come straight to me if you start running a fever, or if the wound becomes hot or discolored," she instructed. She walked over to her medicine cabinet, unlocked it, and pulled out a small bottle. "Wash it with this four times daily, keep it dry otherwise, and change the bandages," she instructed. "Be sure to -"

"Have the girls boil the bandages," he said irritated. "I know, I know."

She sent him an impatient look. "I'm just looking out for you, Hank," she said.

"I know." He hopped down off the table, pulled some money out of his pocket and handed it over. "Gonna need ya ta stop in an' take a look at a couple of my girls," he said. "Think they're comin' down with somethin'."

"I'll be by in the morning," Michaela promised.

He walked to the door and turned, standing there awkwardly for a few minutes. "I'm sorry 'bout the kids," he said abruptly. "I know it's been a couple months, but..." He half shrugged. "If there's anything I can do," His eyes raked up and down her body and he gave her a half leer, "_Anything_, lemme know." He turned and left before she could say anything.

She shook her head, and smiled - half in amusement, and half in exasperation. It was Hank being, well... Hank. She turned and cleaned up the mess left from the minor surgery. Just as she was washing her hands, Sully came inside. "Michaela?"

She looked up and smiled at him. "I was thinking about you today," she said as she bundled up the dirty linens including her apron.

He grinned back. "That's good, 'cause I think 'bout you all the time," he said. "Care t' go for a walk with me?"

She retrieved her shawl from a peg, put it on. and walked over to him. "Always," she said. They went out the door and she put up the closed sign before locking it behind them.

Sully tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her towards the meadow. They strolled leisurely over the bridge in companionable silence. "We're gonna hafta have a Cheyenne weddin' ta satisfy Snowbird," he said finally.

Michaela smiled at him crookedly. "It took you this long to figure that out?" she teased. "I knew when she brought out some buffalo hide from her lodge and told me I needed a ceremonial outfit; that we were going to make one."

He stopped, and turned, facing her. "I love ya, y'know."

"I know," she said as she brushed a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. "I love you, too."

He captured her hand and kissed her palm gently. Lacing his fingers through hers, he leaned in and kissed her softly. "Marry me in front of the Cheyenne?" he murmured.

"I'd marry you a thousand times," she kissed him firmly, then pulled back and he rested his forehead against hers.

"Good," he said. "If everything goes right, I figure we'll have the Cheyenne ceremony on the tenth, and then the other one on the twentieth."

"Snowbird said something about ten days," Michaela murmured.

"'Supposta give ya time ta get used ta sharin' your life, I think," Sully explained. "Used ta sharin' a bed, an' sleeping alongside somebody else."

She blushed. "You've been married before," she pointed out in a low voice. "I haven't -"

He wrapped his arms around her in a gentle hug. "I know," he said. "We'll take it ever so easy," he promised. "This is one of them things ya can't learn from a book - we'll be learnin' together, and we've got the rest of our lives to perfect it." He released her, and then took her hand.

Together, they resumed their gentle stroll around the meadow, talking about everything and nothing at all. Despite all of the hardships and heartbreak that had come with her decision to move west, it was times like this that made it worth it. Between Sully and the children, the only thing she'd change was having Brian and Colleen back. She was worried and scared with them still missing, but she knew he was probably right - they were safe on a ship somewhere in the Pacific. In the meantime, this was where she belonged. This was home.

* * *

Colleen and Brian had been doing their best to avoid the captain. The man had been giving them strange looks and Brian swore that he had been watching them. "He's watching us again, Colin," Brian whispered.

"I know," Colleen whispered back. "Avoidin' him ain't workin' - maybe we oughta just find out what he wants."

"But what if he finds out we're runaways an' sends us back to the Coopers?" Brian asked fearfully. "I don't wanna go back there!"

"We're in the middle of the ocean, Brian," Colleen said practically. "An' he's hardly gonna disrupt his schedule ta take us back to California."

"He could put us on a train and send us back when we get ta N'Orlins," Brian pointed out. Going back was the last thing Brian wanted to do. What he really wanted was to go home, but Aunt Rebecca was a good second choice - at least they'd probably get to see Grandma.

"I doubt that, too," Colleen said. "It's probably far too expensive; I don't think he'd bother."

"I guess," Brian said, "we'll find out what he wants."

Apparently, the captain was determined to talk to them because he came up behind them while they were standing at the railing right before midwatch. "I've been meaning to talk to you two," he said.

Brian straightened up - he had been leaning against the railing - and turned to face him. Colleen just turned around. "Yes, sir?" Brian said. He studied the captain a little, taking in the man's appearance, which he'd failed to do earlier. The man was taller than Sully, but his hair was close to the same color though it was straight. He had a full beard and gray eyes.

"Sir?" Colleen straightened a little.

"A long time ago," the captain began, "my family took in an orphan for a time." He shifted from foot to foot restlessly. "My father was a cabinet maker and a carpenter; I wasn't interested in doing any of it, but Byron, the child we'd taken in, was. He taught him everything I didn't want to learn - cabinet making, joinery, and general carpentry."

Brian and Colleen exchanged a startled look. "Byron" wasn't exactly a common name. "What does this have to do with us, sir?" Colleen asked.

"'Sully' isn't a common last name," the captain said softly. "He lived with us for four years - when he was fourteen, he overheard my parents fighting. My father wanted to legally adopt him, but my mother was against it. He ran away that night, and his friend Daniel went with him." The captain drew in a deep breath and started to pace. "He left a note, thanking my father, and saying he was going west to seek his fortune. He was almost my little brother, and aside from periodic notes he sent with money in them, we never heard from him again." He turned to face them. "Are you two his children? Is he all right? I've wanted to know what happened to my brother for twenty-one years..."

Colleen and Brian exchanged a glance. "Pa has never said much about his past," Colleen said finally.

"Our Pa's name is Byron Sully, and he was born on a ship in th' Atlantic in 1835," Brian offered.

The captain closed his eyes. "I thought I was imagining things," he said softly. "I've wanted to know what became of him for so long..." he trailed off. "Then you two showed up with his last name, and I can see a resemblance."

"In a way, you are 'maginin' things," Brian said. "It's a long story. But Sully's in Colorado Springs, Colorado, an' he should be gettin' ready ta marry our ma on May twentieth."

Colleen must have caught the captain's puzzled look. She cleared her throat. "Our natural pa abandoned us when Brian was a baby," she explained. "An' when our ma died two-and-a-half years ago, she gave us to the town doctor ta raise."

Brian took up the thread. "We hadn't been living with her for more'n six months before we decided we needed a pa, too..."

"We picked out Sully 'cause we'd seen th'way they looked at each other when they thought nobody was lookin'," she explained. "An' he'd been the closest thing to a pa we'd had since ours run off - until recently, he was the only one Brian's ever had."

Brian grinned. "Right before our ma's birthday 'bout two years ago, I asked him to marry her an' he told me it takes time... Didn't court for a while after that, but they're gettin' married soon and they wanted to make us a legal family, so they offered t' adopt us."

"All Byron ever wanted was a family," the captain said softly, his eyes remote.

"It... didn't work out," Colleen said, her eyes tearing up. "Our natural pa came back and signed the papers, but then he changed his mind and took us away."

"So your name isn't Sully," the captain said slowly.

"It should be!" Brian retorted. "I _should_ be Brian Alexander Sully, _not_ Cooper!"

"And I _should_ be Colleen Marie Sully," Colleen whispered. "We just want our family back together, sir."

The captain's eyes snapped to Colleen's face. "Colleen?"

"Yes?" she answered, turning to look out at the water.

"You're a girl?"

Brian moved between the captain and his sister. "It was safer for her to be thought of as a boy," he said defensively. "Ain't safe for two kids on our own... 'specially if she's a girl... I promised Pa I'd take care of her."

Colleen put her hands on Brian's shoulders. "I promised Ma I'd take care of you, little brother," she said softly.

The captain clasped his arms behind his back. "Well, you'll still have to fulfill your contract," he said slowly. "But it's not appropriate for you to sleep where you've been sleeping, Colleen." He closed his eyes and frowned, seemingly thinking hard. "There's a small unoccupied room near the galley," he said. "It already has two bunks in it; I'll have the two of you move in there. If anyone complains, I'll tell them you're my long-lost nephews, which isn't far from the truth, anyway."

"Why, sir?" Colleen asked.

"Because if my father had it his way, your father's last name would be Wilson, same as mine," he replied. "But why go this way instead of to Colorado Springs?"

"Ethan will look for us there," Brian said. "He won't think to go lookin' for us at Aunt Rebecca's house in Boston. I ain't sure he even knows where Ma is from; he sure don't act like it."

Captain Wilson smiled. "My wife is meeting me in New Orleans," he said. "How old are you, anyway?"

"I'm barely fifteen, and Brian just turned ten," Colleen said.

"My wife and I will see that you're better outfitted and put you on a train to Boston," he promised.

"We jus' want our parents an' our older brother back," Brian said softly. "Uncle Richard is a lawyer. We figure he can help us. Ethan couldn't stop Matthew's adoption like he stopped ours, 'cause Matthew's of age already."

"I'm afraid I cant do much legally," Captain Wilson said apologetically. "I'm just a sea captain. I'm being replaced for a while when we hit New Orleans - the line is putting me on a new ship soon. But I'm your Uncle Benjamin. You have an Aunt Anne, an Aunt Emily, and an Uncle Nathan too, plus some cousins."

"Why do you think Sully never said nothin'?" Colleen asked.

"Probably because of what he overheard," Captain Wilson admitted. "My mother regretted it later, and she looked for him for years. She passed five years ago and asked us to try and find Byron." He paused. "My father will be happy because he never stopped looking for my brother."

"Maybe that's why Pa wanted t' adopt us," Brian said. "He wanted us to know that we were a family even if we're not blood."

"How do we know you're tellin' th' truth?" Colleen asked suspiciously.

"Byron has a scar on his neck on the left side," Captain Wilson said. "He got it on the docks around the time my family took him in - my father found him, unconscious and bleeding, took him to the nearest doctor to be stitched up, and then took him home."

"What side of his neck is it on?" Brian asked, trying to double-check. He knew where it was - he'd seen it, but he'd never asked where Sully had gotten it. It was pretty obvious when Sully hadn't shaved for a while.

Captain Wilson thought for a minute. "Left," he said.

"He's tellin' the truth," Brian said.

Colleen nodded, "I know."

Brian gave Captain Wilson a measuring look. "So, what now?" he asked.

"Now, we're going down to crew quarters for you two to gather your things, and then I'll take you to your new quarters. After that, we'll hang a curtain for Colleen." Captain Wilson said.

"You'd better call me Colin, sir," Colleen advised.

Captain Wilson inclined his head. "Come," he said, and started towards the interior of the ship.

Brian and Colleen followed him quietly. Brian, for one, wasn't sure what to think. For as long as he could remember, he'd known Sully had been an orphan. In a way, that fact had made it slightly easier to deal with his own situation - he at least had a parent that loved him. And it looked like, for a time at least, his pa had had that, too. Most of Sully's past was a big blank to him and his siblings. They didn't even know what their father's birthday was. Come to think of it, he doubted his mother knew, either. Perhaps this would be a unique opportunity - to find out more about the man who'd become their father.

* * *

Cloud Dancing crouched down next to Red Moon, who was carving something he couldn't yet identify. "Your sister, Medicine Woman," he said. Sully had asked him to be his representative in negotiating for Michaela.

"I agreed to the adoption," Red Moon said. "She has strong medicine that benefits us, and she is turning into a gifted quiller."

"Her medicine is strong," Cloud Dancing agreed. "My brother wishes to share his life with her," he said.

Red Moon inclined his head, still focusing on the wood and knife in his hands. "All know this," he said.

"I would offer you horses for your sister," Cloud Dancing said.

"She is worth much." Red Moon looked up from his carving. "Her medicine saves our people's lives." He put down the knife and the carving he was working on. "And her work has a high value - she will be joining the Quiller's Society soon."

"Yes," Cloud Dancing agreed. Snowbird had told him about her pending membership in the Quiller's Society, and he'd seen some of her work. He was convinced Dr. Mike could do just about anything she put her mind to. "What I can offer is less than what she is worth to my brother because to him, she is priceless."

"What will you offer for her?" Red Moon asked. He brought his leg up and rested his arm on his knee.

The standard price for a wife was five horses, but he knew that it would seem paltry to Sully for Michaela. But on the other hand, he couldn't start with twenty because after all, this was bargaining. He smiled. "Ten horses," he said.

Red Moon's eyes widened slightly but that was the only sign of surprise he gave. Cloud Dancing knew that despite that, it wasn't over - nobody ever accepted the first offer. He'd done this before for Walks On Clouds. Slowly, Red Moon shook his head. "Surely her medicine is worth more than that," he said. "Let alone what her quill and bead work will bring us in trade."

"Fifteen," Cloud Dancing offered. "My brother will love her the rest of his days."

"Done," Red Moon agreed. "You have made me a wealthy man." He held out his arm and Cloud Dancing took it.

"No," Cloud Dancing said as he released Red Moon's arm. "Sully would say he is the wealthy one - he is marrying Medicine Woman." He stood up. "My brother and I will bring the horses," he said.

* * *

Sully sat outside Cloud Dancing's lodge with a piece of wood in his hands. He'd been attempting to carve something, but nerves were getting in his way. Snowbird was sitting nearby working on something different.

As Cloud Dancing walked over and sat down, he looked up and smiled at him. "How many?" he asked. "How did it go?"

"Fifteen," Cloud Dancing admitted. "I know it is a lot, but I thought you would not want to under pay for her."

Sully felt relieved. "You're right," he said. "We'll get married here ten days or so before the town weddin'."

Snowbird smiled serenely. "Good," she said. "I wish to see my sister wed."

Sully cleared his throat. "Speaking of that... Michaela an' me've been talkin'," he said. "We want both of you at the town wedding."

"I do not know if that is a good idea," Cloud Dancing began, and then glanced at his wife. "You know how they feel about us there," he said.

"We know," Sully said. "But you're not just my brother, you're my best friend, an' I want you ta stand up with me at our town wedding. Be my best man, Cloud Dancing, please?"

He was quiet for a few minutes. "I will be this best man for you," he said firmly.

Sully turned towards Snowbird. "She wants you at _both_ of our weddings, Snowbird," he said.

She looked at Cloud Dancing, and Sully could see the twinkle in her eyes. "I want to be there," she said softly.

"Michaela's sister, Rebecca is comin'," Sully said. "This weddin' is more for her family an' the town than anything - she wants ta keep bein' a doctor, and we have to walk both paths."

Cloud Dancing reached out and took Snowbird's hand. "We know this, my brother," he said. "I have known since I found you and healed you that you would walk both paths. The Spirits told me a long time ago that you would find happiness again; that you would find a woman strong enough to hold up under the weight of a good marriage - as I have done." He gave her a loving look.

"We _will_ be there, Sully," she said and smiled, her eyes sparkling. "Medicine Woman and I have been busy - in our lessons, we have made new clothing for us. She will be quilling her first robe soon, as well."

A small part of Sully was rubbing his hands together with slightly evil glee at the thought of Elizabeth coming and seeing the best man and the matron of honor decked out in Cheyenne ceremonial glory. Now he knew exactly why Michaela had been ordering seed beads in quantity over the past few months and why Snowbird had been dyeing so many porcupine quills. He and Cloud Dancing had even been sent out to trap porcupines a couple times. As far as they knew, Elizabeth wasn't coming, and he hadn't wanted to ask Snowbird for Michaela. But if Elizabeth came... He grinned at his brother. "Good," he said. "This might be for the benefit of the town and any of Michaela's family that comes, but it's _our_ weddin', and we need ya there." There was also the fact that a Cheyenne wedding wouldn't be legal to the rest of the world; realistically, they _needed_ the town wedding to be legally married.

Snowbird laid aside her work and without a word, got up and went inside the lodge. She returned a little later carrying a dream catcher. "Give this to Medicine Woman," she said. "It is for your union. This brought many happy suns over our lodge with each other."

Sully took it, but looked at the couple quizzically. "Don't ya wanna give it to her yourself?" he asked.

She just smiled. "It should go in your new lodge now," she said softly.

Cloud Dancing leaned forward. "Have you showed her the space you have prepared for the children that are lost?" he asked softly.

"We talked about it... before," Sully muttered. "But I haven't."

"Show her what you have done for the children," he directed. "Show her you have not given up your faith. Show her you believe they will return to you."

"She needs you," Snowbird said simply. "She needs to know your children still have a place to come to."

Sully nodded. "I will," he promised. "I gotta go an' finish." He bid his brother and sister-in-law goodbye and then gathered his horse and left for the homestead. He'd finished the barn months ago, so he stabled his horse there. The windows had yet to be installed on the main floor, but the second floor was completely finished. He'd made beds and such for Matthew, Colleen, and Brian and those were already in the appropriate rooms. Logically, he knew Matthew wouldn't be living with them for long, but with the other two gone, it had just felt wrong to not have a separate bed just for him - after all, without Brian there, he hadn't needed more than one in that room. Once the structures were done, he'd spent more time using skills he hadn't needed in a long time. While the main living area wasn't furnished yet, he'd made all the furniture in the bedrooms. It had been years since he'd used some of the finer woodworking skills he'd learned as a boy, but he'd done it for their new home. He hadn't used those skills for Abigail, but it seemed wrong to make the rougher things he'd made for the old homestead. They simply didn't fit here. He'd still been busy working in the mines when he'd married Abigail. Simply put, he'd put more time into the new homestead because he had it.

Abigail hadn't minded the more rough-hewn things he'd made for their home - but Michaela had been raised with the finer things in life and he wanted to give her some of them. He knew he was a fine craftsman... when he wanted to be. Which was why he'd spent almost as much time making furniture as he had building the house. He knew how to do inlay and marquetry, but for the most part, he'd stuck to carvings. He'd made a replica of the bed in Michaela's childhood room for Colleen, and stuck with simple line designs for the boys. Both rooms had matching dressers and clothes presses, plus chairs, blanket chests, and night stands. He'd done the same for his and Michaela's room - only the bed wasn't quite finished yet. The others were missing only mattresses and such, but the ropes were strung to hold the mattresses up already, and the house was almost ready to move into.

Sully had considered making a hope chest for Colleen but had held off until they knew if they could get her home. Richard had been sending telegrams that had given them hope, but the very fact the children had run away worried both of them. Anyway, it would make a pretty good Christmas present if they managed to bring the children home. He gathered the supplies he needed to finish their bed and went inside, making sure to take Snowbird's gift with him. Juggling his tools, he hung her gift from the mantle before putting the tools down near the wall the headboard was leaning against. He'd made the headboard as smooth as he could with planers and the like - it was time for sanding. He pulled off the drape covering it, and picked up a piece of sandpaper, using it to carefully smooth out any rough spots in the carving. It was slow going; he had to use the finest sandpaper available so as not to lose the detail in the feathers.

Before he could get any further, the door swung open, and Michaela walked in. "Snowbird said you needed me," she said softly. "And something told me she was right."

Sully put down the sandpaper and crossed the room with long strides. He took her hand in his and kissed it softly. "I'll always need you," he said. "Snowbird an' Cloud Dancin' sent us a weddin' present." He nodded towards the dream catcher that was hanging from the fireplace.

"She told me," Michaela admitted. She grinned and smoothed his hair back from his face. "Just so you know - I'm really bad at sharing."

It took Sully a minute to realize what she was talking about. He leaned in and kissed her. "That's good, because I ain't got any intention of ever doin' that."

Michaela kissed him back and laughed. "Then I won't have to destroy your things and throw them out of the house!"

"Better not," he teased. "'Cause I need ya too much. The kids need both of us, too." At the mention of the children, her entire demeanor changed. He pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in a gentle embrace. She turned in his arms so she was facing outward, and he laced his fingers through hers. "It's gonna be okay, 'Chaela," he said quietly. "C'mon, I got somethin' ta show ya." She hadn't seemed to notice their new bed yet, for which he was thankful - it was supposed to be a surprise. Carefully he released her, but kept hold of her hand, and led her upstairs. "I wanted ta show ya th' kids' rooms," he murmured. He opened the first door and led her inside. "For Matthew an' Brian," he said, suddenly feeling a bit shy. He hadn't made anything like the furniture in the boys' rooms since he was a boy, himself. It had been a long time since he'd left the Wilsons to strike off on his own.

Michaela seemed reluctant to let go of his hand, so he followed as she went to examine both the carvings and the stranded inlay work on the furniture. He'd inlaid it with interlocking Greek key designs, using several different woods in the process. The base wood had been stained dark, while the others were various shades, making the design stand out from the background. It was different from the furniture he'd made for the two of them, and still more different from what he'd made for Colleen. But all of it was made to last. In a hundred years, when they were long gone, their great-grandchildren could still use what he'd crafted for their home. "It's beautiful, Sully," she said, before giving him a soft kiss. She sat down on one of the blanket boxes, pulling him down beside her.

He simply wrapped his arms around her. "Richard seems ta think we got a good chance," he muttered. "Didn't wanta give up on gettin' the kids back after that."

She turned and leaned against him, tucking her head under his chin. He shifted a bit, putting one leg against the foot board so she could lean against him fully, her soft curves pressing against him. "I love you for that," she said simply.

"Only for that?" He pressed a kiss into her hair, the scent of _her_ overwhelming his senses. He shifted away a little, before she could feel _exactly_ what holding her like that did to him.

She stood up and smiled impishly. "For much more than that," she said.

He smiled at her. "Good," he said and then stood and took her hand again, leading her to another room. "This is for Colleen," he said simply, letting her explore it as well.

"It's just like -" she began.

"Your childhood room on Boston," he said quietly. "Only smaller. Colleen liked it so much..."

"It's perfect," Michaela hugged him, a beaming smile on her face. "I'm proud of you, Sully," she said suddenly. "I'm proud of our home and especially that you built it for us with your own two hands." She took his callused hands and placed a kiss in the center of each palm.

A small lump rose in Sully's throat. "You deserve the world, 'Chaela," he murmured. "I can't give it to ya; this is th' best I c'n do."

She hugged him close, and then kissed him. "Don't you understand, Sully?" she asked as she stepped back from him to look him in the eye. "You and the children are all the world I need." She smiled crookedly. "You were working on something when I came in."

"It was suppose ta be a surprise," he clasped his hands behind his back. "It's your weddin' present."

Michaela left Colleen's new room and headed downstairs, with him following behind her. "I want to see it," she said. "Can I see what you've made for our room?" she asked.

"Not yet," he said simply, "Th' other one, I figure we can wait on for a bit." What he didn't tell her was that all of the furniture in their bedroom had the same motif of medicine wheels and feathers carved into them. The bed was the last piece. There were few things going into their new house that he hadn't touched in some way. The wingback chairs they'd purchased to go in front of the fire were an exception, and to be perfectly honest, he wasn't planning on taking much of the furniture from his old place. The rocking chair and the table were being moved, but not much more than that. As soon as he convinced Matthew to accept the old homestead, all of the old furnishings would be taken care of. He'd leave them there; he was sure Matthew and Ingrid would use them.

When they got downstairs, she headed straight for the headboard. She touched it gently, her hand stroking the wood, following the outline of one of the feathers. It wasn't as smooth as he wanted, but at least it wouldn't give her splinters. "It's beautiful," she murmured.

"It will be once it's finished," he said. He put his hand on the headboard and leaned in closer. "I figured... we needed a bed." He cupped her cheek with the other hand and stroked it with his thumb. At that moment, working on their bed was the last thing on his mind; kissing Michaela sounded like a better pastime right then.

"May I watch you work?" she asked.

"Sure." he said softly as he dropped his arms. He reached for the drop cloth he'd used to cover the headboard and started to spread it on the bare floor. "Here," he said. "You can sit on this." She helped him spread it out and then sat down. He stood up, grabbed some sandpaper, and started smoothing the headboard once more.

"Rebecca is coming," she said quietly. "Somehow, I think she won't be alone."

"I know," he said. "The telegram said Richard is comin' along."

"Penny is in boarding school now, but that's not what I meant."

"Ya think some of your other sisters are gonna come?" he asked as he brushed away sawdust and kept sanding. He'd changed sandpapers and moved to the more open areas, attempting to smooth out the lumps and bumps left from the chisels he'd used to carve it.

"They might." She hesitated. "I wanted to warn you... I know them, and they _will_ most likely sneer at our home."

Sully dropped the sandpaper and turned to face her. "As long as you don't," he said. He walked over and crouched down in front of her.

She took his hand and with a single finger, traced the rough calluses on them. "I won't," she promised. "I love our home, and I'm proud of the fact that you built it and made most of our furniture."

"But they're your family," he said softly. Hearing that her sisters would sneer at what he'd provided for his Heartsong brought up some old insecurities.

"_You're_ my family," she said, looking down at her lap.

"Good, because you're mine - and my best friend." Gently, Sully tilted her chin up so that she was looking at him. "You gotta understand, my heart's yours now." He cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her. One kiss led to another, which led to another, and another and soon she had lain down on the drape, her hands running through his hair as they kissed. He wrapped his arms around her, never wanting to let go. They kissed slowly, leisurely, exploring each other's mouths while her hands played in his hair.

Just as he was about to lean in for another kiss, she stopped him, pulling back. "You'd better get back to work, or we'll never have a bed," she said, her voice breathy, a teasing glint in her eyes.

They both laughed softly. His hold on her relaxed and he caressed her arms lovingly. "You're so beautiful," he said.

"With everything that has happened recently, I never believed I could be this happy," she admitted, a smile still on her face. "I love you so much."

Sully had never believed he would love again, let alone love anyone as much as he loved Michaela. His love for her surpassed anything he had ever known. He half laughed, and then leaned in to kiss her right below her ear before he stood, pulling her up with him. "We'll have a bed," he promised. "An' I'll get the windows and the door put in, too."

She sat down again, quietly watching as he sanded, doing his best to make the headboard as smooth as fine spun silk. He could feel her eyes on him, and every time he turned, he could see her watching, a dreamy look in her eyes. Part of him hoped she was dreaming of when they would finally marry and no barriers put by society would stand between them anymore. He hoped so, because it was his fondest dream.

**_TBC..._**


End file.
